


Endings of Old and Beginnings New

by LittleBittyPretty1



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Autobots never arrive, Decepticons Win, F/M, Forced Relationship, Megatron has Allspark, Post-Apocalypse, Rebellion, Sparkmate, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tags Are Hard, bigbigBIGsizedifference, enslaved humanity, strong female lead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 75
Words: 326,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBittyPretty1/pseuds/LittleBittyPretty1
Summary: The Autobots never arrived in time and the Decepticons now rule the Earth. The human race is enslaved and the last world leader is on the run. US President Eleanor Sherman was the first and last of her sex to hold her office. Megatron, with Earth under his iron fist, has resumed the search for his lost sparkmate. Very AU, Megatron x human OC. Rated M just to be safe. Movieverse with parts from other universes. Originally posted under my account on fanfiction.net.Rating has risen to Explicit after chapter 71. (update 9/29/17)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hasbro owns all of the characters except my OCs.

_The battle raged around them; the cries and screams of mechs, both Autobot and Decepticon, filled the air with a cacophony of the sounds of victory and defeat._

_These sounds never reached the victorious leader's audios, however, as he lay cradling the broken body of his one and only sparkmate, Circuitsia. The Lord was in a position unbecoming of his ever-present aura of dominance and cruelty, as he kneeled on the ground and listened to her last words:_

_"Do not fear my king. I will return to you, for death can never separate lovers."_

_The femme in his lap muttered her words with utmost love before her optics dimmed and spark ceased, and the anguished screams of the warlord blended with the shouts of victory sounding from his warriors._

_He vowed in that moment that he would never cease in his search for her; that he would conquer every planet in the universe if it meant that he could hear her voice and see her optics again._


	2. The Photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hasbro owns all of the characters except my OCs.

 

When she escaped Washington D.C., she had had 5 agents to protect her.

Now, after an estimated year, all she has left is herself.

Eleanor Sherman, 50th and last President of the United States, the last world leader that had yet to be publicly executed by the Decepticons since they had overthrown the governments of the world with the ease of flipping a piece of paper.

She was rather proud of herself for making it this far in a world that had turned upside down - not that she hadn’t had her close calls. Eleanor had almost been caught on many different occasions, and the thought of those times made her shiver. The consequences were all too real for being caught - long, slow maiming followed by a painful death. The President had seen it many times, as had the enslaved people of Earth; the Decepticons’ display of overwhelming dominance and control over the human race was suffocating, as they intended it to be, and also packed a powerful message.

The horrible, bloody executions were meant to convey, "If you resist, this could be you."

All too often had she had nightmares in her restless sleep of her own execution by the claws of their terrible leader - Megatron. The Decepticons themselves were the things of a child’s nightmare, and sometimes it was hard for her to discern between reality and dream.

Shaking her head to clear it and remain on her toes, the ousted President checked her surroundings and the daylight skies for robots before she ran into the house across the street in her search for food. Presently she was inside a gated neighborhood in Deltona, Florida, which was full of half-burned houses which would have been worth millions prior to the Invasion. Now, they were worth nothing; they were probably waiting to be bulldozed by the Decepticons.

She had spotted them building in a few locations before, witnessed her people being whipped into submission and forced to construct the beginnings of enormous skyscrapers. This neighborhood would eventually fall into rot or be built on top of, whichever came first.

Stepping inside the moldy foyer, which was missing a door, she ventured cautiously into the rooms beyond, her dark reflections enveloping her in their cold embrace.

The broadcasts had also made her wonder why she was the last; why they had yet to find her so she could join her family in the afterlife. She had never married and didn't have children, but she still wished to see her parents again. _Or do I wish to join them because I want to stop thinking about how I failed my planet and my people? That I want to stop thinking about the fact that I'm still free while my people are enslaved?_

She came across the master bedroom, which was mostly destroyed with moldy carpet, torn drapes, and a splintered four-poster bed. Everything was a ghost of its former expensive nature. Turning to the left, she saw the spacious adjoining bathroom.

Walking into the window-lit space, she caught her reflection in the cracked and fractured mirror, noticing immediately how filthy she looked. Her brown hair lay in oily tangles around her once elegant face, which was now smeared with dirt and grime and streaks where tears had washed away filth. The locks moved gently in the wind from a broken window.

The former president turned to the huge, stone shower and halfheartedly tried the knob with no success. Looking back at the mirror for a closer inspection, she observed that she was much thinner and leaner than previously, even glimpsing some ribs underneath her torn scavenged shirt. _Of course_ , she chastised herself, _you do nothing but sprint away from danger all day and then eat next to nothing._

Eleanor left the bathroom and bedroom and continued through the hallways to a different wing of the house. Seeing a glint out of one of the rooms, she followed it and found a picture frame. The dirty photograph showed the typical American family, all smiling and laughing at the camera. She saddened, once again reminded of the people she had failed, and her heart sank deep in her chest at the memory of her defeat.

Once again she was walking through the hallways when she came upon her prize. Rooting through the cabinets with earnest, she found a few forgotten cans of pineapple and beans. She was pleasantly surprised at her luck, and placed the cans into her pack. President Sherman turned her attention to the state of the once-modern kitchen, whose stone floor looked like it had once held a campfire or two, with black scorch marks in places. The refrigerator still stood and she opened it, quickly shutting it and wrinkling her nose after smelling long-gone meat.

Eleanor was pulled out of her thoughts as the throb of an engine in the skies made her freeze. Ever since their takeover of her world, she had learned quickly never to trust the once-ordinary sound and take cover immediately.

She snuck, as quietly as possible, to the windowless pantry in the filthy kitchen and shut the door with a squeak of unoiled hinges. She could still hear the engine but it was muffled now. Fishing a flashlight out of her pack, she shined it on the shelves around her, looking for anything she could use as her stomach protested its emptiness. Seeing only some long dead, stiff rodents Eleanor turned off the flashlight and sat down, waiting for the Decepticon to go away. Her eyes narrowed with her strong cocktail of hate, anger and fear at the thought of those vile beasts.

Those robots had invaded the planet so efficiently that there was no time to organize any kind of military defense; the world had been taken completely by surprise. Within a day they had destroyed the main population centers, and they had picked off most of the nations by the end of the third day. She had been told of the presence of some sort of cube that created more of them out of earth machines, but it was irrelevant for it was already too late. Her team had barely made it into the tunnels as the White House exploded, bombed by the invaders that a few hours prior she hadn’t known existed. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of those loyal men and women that had helped her get out.

They were her closest Secret Service agents, her friends, and those bastards killed them one by one, her head agent Ben Wilson dying only a few weeks ago in Orlando. She was not paying attention to her surroundings, and he had paid the price for her foolishness. Sniffing, President Sherman picked up her head and resolved not to cry. _They'd want you to spare your tears_ , she thought to herself. Deep down, though, she knew she was just trying to save herself emotional trauma and guilt. One had to be comfortable in their own skin, for it was the only skin one had.

She turned her thoughts to how far she had come. She had escaped the gangs that roamed the countryside, wild dogs, and not to mention the Decepticons hunting her. But these encouraging thoughts took a sharp turn when her mind pointed out who she owed it to. Eleanor knew she had survived on the brink of starvation and off of the backs of those that laid down their lives for her, and her guilt returned. Yet, once again, her mind reassured her with another thought.

 _"We agreed to this when we signed up for the service,"_ Wilson had told her, _"so do not feel bad, because for us this is just another day on the job. Your job,_ " he had continued, pointing at her, _"is to see the human race out of this mess. To do that, you need to survive."_

Not comforted but slightly calmed by the memory of his words she sighed, closing her eyes as the drone above continued.

* * *

The Decepticon Emperor stood a distance away from the activity near his palace, watching the construction of his fortress by the human slaves. It would be quite magnificent once finished, as it should be. Earth was to be the new Decepticon homeworld after all, since the warlord had finally admitted to himself that their home was gone. Cybertron was lost to them, and so his Decepticons made themselves comfortable here amid the ruins of the human world.

Soon even those would be obliterated, however. With time the humans would accept their place of subservience and their race would forget about their prior sovereignty and  “greatness.” They were mere insects after all, praying for a relief that would never come to them while he used them as he deemed fit.

The finished exterior of the palace was a sight to behold, and the Decepticon leader felt a swell of pride in his spark upon gazing at it. Scrapper’s team had done a magnificent job when they had planned it out shortly after he finished conquering the city of Washington, D.C.

Hearing movement behind him, he turned to see Soundwave who greeted him with a bow.

 _"You requested the file on their sole remaining leader, my lord?"_ , the Communications Officer asked in formal Cybertronian, offering his commander a datapad. Megatron accepted it without hesitation, onlining the screen to gaze over the report.  

_"Indeed, Soundwave. When was it last seen, and where?"_

_"Her remaining bodyguard was killed a few human weeks ago in what the insects called Orlando, my liege."_ Soundwave was hesitant, and rightfully so. Lord Megatron was not one that a bot wanted to anger.

 _"Why was it not caught?"_ , the warlord growled, wondering once again at the competency of his forces. A stellar cycle ago he had subjugated this planet, and their figurehead was not yet captured? He wanted to end this, build his palace, and proceed to conquer the surrounding systems.

How he _itched_ to use his fusion cannon in battle.

_"The bodyguard sacrificed himself, according to seeker reports, and by the time he was dead she had disappeared."_

Megatron vented in disappointment. _"You are dismissed. Also, relay to Starscream that he and his seekers are to redouble their search efforts."_ Soundwave bowed once more and left to give Starscream his new orders. He knew that his lord did not prefer to speak to Starscream unless absolutely necessary.

The ex-gladiator flicked through the report absently, mostly thinking about the way he would kill it once found, until he saw the picture of this "Eleanor Sherman.”

The human’s light gray optics sent a jolt of recognition through his spark, and immediately he thought of the light gray optics of  his long-offlined Circutsia. Shaking his helm to clear his processor of the ridiculous notion and scolding himself for comparing his precious, superior Circuitsia to such a vile bug, he nonetheless continued through the report more carefully.

As he had requested, there was a plethora of data about it in the report. The ever-through Soundwave had even included a few videos off of their “internet” for his use as well. His processor, desperate to relocate Circuitsia, forced him to play the footage of one of its interviews. Begrudgingly he chose one that had been given just after this “President” was chosen to lead - only a year before his conquering of the planet.

When he watched this Eleanor speak, he was once again reminded of Circutsia. The way this human held its little head, gestured when it spoke, distracted all of his attention away from her words. Even her speech pattern caught his attention, and with a hungry growl from his vocaliser his intentions for it changed drastically. _No_ , Megatron told himself, scrolling back up to her picture on the report, _this human is no longer an "it."_

 **_She_ ** _is the proper term,_ he purred mentally. **_Her_ ** _spark is one and the same with dear Circuitsia._

 _"Found you,_ " he rumbled with a smirk, subconsciously stroking her photograph lightly, _“Precious mate.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, you get cookies if you do :)


	3. The Needle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

**** Eleanor awakened in the dark pantry, realizing that she had fallen asleep waiting for the robot to leave. Now, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the regular creaks of the house; the drone of the engine was absent.

She stood up and left the pantry, seeing that there was pale moonlight through the kitchen window.  _ I must have been really tired,  _ she thought to herself with anger. It was dangerous to stay in one place for too long - if the robots didn’t find her the gangs roaming the countryside might, and Eleanor wasn’t sure what was worse. 

The choice between possible rape or humiliation and painful, long execution was a difficult one. Even if the gangs didn’t decide to violate her, they just might sell her to the Decepticons. She had heard that they would find and capture people to give them away to the monsters as slaves. Eleanor was disgusted enough with the awful practice, and the fact that it was humans ratting out other humans as slaves only made it worse. 

She proceeded through the house and out the way she had come, when she heard something shift heavy weight and snort. Against her better instincts - it might easily be a bear - cautiously Eleanor went into the room the sound had come from, staring in surprise at what she saw but abject relief.

A black horse stared at her through tangled mane which shone in the moonlight through the missing wall. Its frame was thin but muscular, as it had wandered freely feeding of off what it could find.  _ It must have escaped from one of those equestrian centers i have seen around here, _ she mused. 

Knowing that some of these expensive houses had their own stables for one or two horses, she proceeded out the missing wall and into the backyard of the building. It was, as was customary for a multi-million dollar house, huge and probably at least an acre. The back of it, she noticed, was a forest with no visible fence.

Spotting a shed, she stalked toward it quietly and quickly, opening the door carefully. The moon lightened the room beyond, and she grabbed the dusty saddle and bridle that were placed on one of the walls, soundlessly closing the door again. She sprinted as fast as the slightly heavy saddle would allow her, and made it back into the destroyed bedroom where the horse still stood, watching her with inquisitive brown eyes.

Remembering her riding lessons, she bridled the horse and tied it to the skeleton of the bedpost. Throwing an old blanket over the horse's back, she placed the saddle on top and cinched up the girth. "Guess you're my ride out of here, buddy," she told it inciting a snort from the steed. She untied the horse, who she had observed was a mare, and lead it out back into the backyard where she mounted with some difficulty and rode into the night.

* * *

 

_ "Starscream reporting my liege." _ Rolling his optics at the infuriating flattery of his traitorous second-in-command, Megatron turned to the Seeker. 

_ "Spare me your flattery. Now, what of the search?" _ The sun was starting to set, illuminating the late fall skies in purple and orange. His Cybertronian was impatient, an unspoken warning to the Seeker and one that he knew well. 

_ "Nothing to report, Lord Megatron. My team are still searching the surrounding areas as we speak. I was even out looking just North of Orlando, and we have found nothing."  _ Starscream was trying desperately to please in a pleading and quick voice, but Megatron was too worried about Eleanor to deal with his sickening cowardice. 

Sighing, the Emperor turned away. _ "Halt the search and recall your teams immediately."  _

_ "But master, her death would mean the completion of our victory over this pathetic planet and its insects!" _

_ Yes, but it is no longer my wish to execute her.  _ Instead the warlord replied,  _ "Assign lookout points and hide in your alt forms. She knows to hide when she hears your engine, so let her come to you. Dismissed, Starscream." _

The second in command dipped his helm and turned to leave when Megatron added nonchalantly.

_ "Starscream," _ the Seeker faced his leader once again, _ "instruct your team that they are not to capture, injure, or kill her. Rather, they are to inject a tracker into her. Once that is done, they are to return to base and leave her where she falls, understood?" _ Starscream once again nodded, although slightly puzzled at the reason for a change in orders, before leaving his master.

_ "Soundwave," _ he commed his officer,  _ "meet with me immediately. There are a few changes that I wish to have made to my palace." _ Soundwave answered and said he was on his way and Megatron was once again left looking at his nearly-complete home, the dying sun making the metal peaks gleam brilliantly.

Someday he would have sparklings and a mate to share it with, the former to fill its empty halls and the latter to warm his lonely, empty berth.

* * *

 

The former President rode carefully through the woods, staying low on the horse's back to avoid being scraped by tree branches or spotted by hostiles while watching the area around her. She looked up to the skies, which were starting to lighten, but also still displayed the Milky Way.  _ I wonder which planet our invaders came from _ , she asked absently while checking her scratched and beaten compass.

_ Good, still going North towards Jacksonville.  _ It would be a few days before she got there, but as long as she stayed alert (and lucky) she would make it and find help there.  Now that she had a horse she could travel even faster.

Coming to a meadow and stream, she decided to dismount "Blackie", as she had so  _ creatively  _ named the mare, to give both of them a water break. Once the horse had her fill Eleanor tied the reins to a branch in the dawn light and she sat against the trunk of a tree, watching her graze on some of the grass in the small meadow. 

Bringing her jean-covered knees to her chest and propping her chin up in a hand, she returned to her musings. She thought particularly of an old friend who she had not seen in what felt like forever,  _ Where are you Ben, when I'm all alone and need you the most? _

_ Right. One of  _ **_them_ ** _ killed you.  _ Eleanor shuddered and willed herself not to cry yet again. Crying would do no good and lower her guard, making her more vulnerable than before to being caught. She would feel terrible for long while before she got over Ben Wilson’s death. 

Spotting a gleam in the trees across the meadow President Sherman walked toward it and left Blackie concealed in the trees. She hoped that it might be something she could use or trade at one of the hidden outposts - she desperately needed food. 

Nearing it, Eleanor saw that it was a silver Mercedes, parked on the side of a road.  _ It looks awfully clean _ , she thought to herself, and her eyes widened in overdue realization. 

But before she could even start running, the thing transformed in a flurry of metal and snatched her up in its claws. Her neck was wrenched and she gasped, her freedom and life flashing before her eyes. She was done for - there was no escaping the Decepticons now. This one was going to take her back to its monster of a leader for her dreadful execution: impaled on sharp claws, limbs severed with mere pinches from enormous fingers, bones shattered with the tiniest pressure, her back broken and skull disintegrated with a hard throw into a wall, crushed slowly underneath a huge steel heel...

Her last memory was the prick of a strange needle being stuck into her neck, injecting something into her nape, before she fainted.


	4. The Birthdate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, all the characters except my OCs belong to Hasbro.

Placing the human femme back on the ground gently, Soundwave launched himself into the sky, taking his jet form and heading back North while comming Megatron.  _ "My lord, she has been injected with her tracker." _

_ "Excellent, and she is uninjured?" _ The ruler sounded pleased but his tone held a slight sound of worry, which caught Soundwave's attention. He had served the warlord for far too long not to notice the odd waver that betrayed his concern.What was more, this human female was now a “ _ she” _ , not an “ _ it”  _ as the others humans were to Megatron. 

_ "Affirmative." _ the Communications Officer replied, his Cybertronian emotionless. 

Satisfied that she was safe for now, he relaxed and changed the subject. No matter how trustworthy Soundwave was to him, the time had not yet come to reveal his plans for Eleanor.  _ "What of the construction of my palace?"  _

_ "The changes we have discussed are being made, but there is an unforeseen difficulty regarding some of the materials. Barricade has informed me that some of the Northern mines have collapsed."  _ Soundwave was nervous and rightfully so. The palace was a complex, enormous fortress that had already taken a great amount of time to build - human slaves died in droves if they were pushed too hard. Megatron was not a forgiving master and he did have limits on his patience. 

The tyrant vented deeply in the Cybertronian equivalent of a sigh and asked  _ "How long will these delays hold?" _

_ "At least a couple human weeks, my Lord."  _ Soundwave braced himself. Just because he was the officer Megatron most trusted - not much, it should be noted, but still most - did not mean he was above meeting the harsh servo of his Lord should the tyrant be displeased. 

_ "Very well," _ the Emperor replied, disappointed, _ "report back to base."  _ He was loathe to get her only for her home to be incomplete - he would have to wait to fetch her, it seemed. However, he admitted that he knew very little about how to care for a human; all of his experience with them had been killing or severely injuring. He knew nothing about what they needed, and therefore he would utilize his time learning. 

It would be a shame to catch her only to accidentally slice her delicate throat because of his inexperience. 

Soundwave, relieved that Megatron’s temper had not been awoken, chose to think about his liege’s mysterious motivations. It was curious indeed; perhaps he simply wanted to toy with the human a bit. Getting its guard down, bewildering it before crushing it would make an interesting spectacle.

* * *

 

When Eleanor awoke, still groggy from whatever had happened, the sun had already risen. She rose, bewildered as to why she was still where she was and checked herself over, stretching stiff muscles that had been cramped in an odd position. She did not have any marks that she didn't have before, except for where the needle had entered the back of her neck. Touching the spot, she felt a small amount of warm blood, but nothing else. It was just as if she had been given a regular shot.

Walking back into the meadow and thankfully seeing Blackie where she had left her, she tried to go over the event in her head. She remembered the pain of the strange needle being stuck in her neck, but that was all.  _ It was surprisingly gentle, now that I think about it. The robot actually seemed to be careful not to cut me.  _

Untying Blackie, she mounted her and was back on her way, wary of it returning should it change its mind.  _ But why was I not captured? Why did they leave me after injecting whatever that was?  _

Now she was worried about what they had injected her with.  _ It couldn't be anything that would kill me, because they would want to televise my death. After all, I was the President of a leading nation, arguably the strongest of the other world powers. They would want to kill me in the  _ **_slowest_ ** _ way possible and probably flaunt my dead body around on a stick. _

_ However, there is no reason that it would be anything to help me either.  _ The horse and rider continued on their journey towards Jacksonville, appearing as a red dot on a certain warlord's datapad.

* * *

 

When they had reached Jacksonville a week and a half later, she had exhausted her food supplies. After finding a bow and a few arrows in an abandoned cabin deep in the mountains she had tried to hunt, but had found nothing. Rooting through her pack, the former President of the United States laid out everything she had and what she could possibly trade. She had an assortment of knives, some random pieces of chewing gum, medicine and pain killers, some extra clothing, and, oddly, a copy of the Declaration of Independence and of the Constitution. " _ If we get humanity out of this mess, we'll need to reconstruct our government. To do that, these are necessary,"  _ Wilson had said. 

_ He was so hopeful,  _ Eleanor thought, carefully setting aside the copies,  _ If only I could hope like that. I lost all of that after seeing those monsters execute my fellow leaders in such ghastly ways. _

_ After watching their brute leader crush my military like aluminum toys with easy, simple squeezes of his hands.  _

Oh, they were brutal. She remembered seeing her entire Congress captured, each one of them subjected to grotesque forms of execution. They were slowly crushed under enormous metal feet, skinned alive by metal claws, had their limbs pulled off one by one, among other horrible ways. The leaders of the world had been no different; all of them died at the hands of the beings' leader.  _ Why me? Why am I different? _

Deciding that she could spare the chewing gum and extra medicine, she hid Blackie in the woods and walked into the destroyed town, careful to watch her surroundings. She had traded here before on her way south, and only hoped that the place had not been discovered by the Decepticons. 

Walking into a large warehouse on the outskirts of the devastated metropolis, she felt immediate relief; the traders still remained. Seeing a familiar face from the summer, she smiled and waved to him. He saluted at her and grinned, coming forward to greet her.

"So madame, what can I help you with today?" Burns was a large man who had an ex-military aura about him, with his short, slightly gray hair and muscled arms. She had taken an immediate liking to him, as had the usually distrusting Wilson. 

After saluting back, Eleanor replied, "I've come to trade, Burns." She laid out the gum, medicine, and knives. 

"I have just the thing for these, come with me," Burns asked, urging her into the back of his tent he had set up. She had the feeling that he was not going to fetch something from his wares - there was another glint in his eyes, one that made her nervous. She would not have thought anything of it before the Invasion, but now her confidence in men she was not completly sure of had been shattered. She had run from too many gangs and escaped too many kidnappings in the past year to trust blindly. 

_ How well do I know this man?  _ She kept her muscles tensed and her weight light on her feet in case she had to flee. 

Once away from prying eyes and ears, Burns turned to her and whispered, "The Insurgency needs a true leader if we have any chance of uniting humanity in a coup against those bastards, ma'am. We all agreed that it should be you." She relaxed only a modicum, still wary. 

Shocked, Eleanor replied, "I can't, Burns. I'm sorry, I would help if I could, but I just can't." Looking him in the eye, she said "I have a feeling that my luck won't hold out much longer. If I was caught and gave you up, all hope would be lost."  _ If it isn't gone already. _

“Who knows what kind of torture they have in store for me. If they got any inkling…” She let her words trail off, any continuation unnecessary and much to gruesome to speak of. 

Burns sighed. "I guess you're right, Ms. President." Rooting through a box, he pulled out a scarf and handed it to her. "You'll need this. The Decepticons have a reward out on your head." 

_ You don’t need to remind me.  _ Taking the scarf and wrapping it around her shoulders and over her head, Eleanor gave Burns a look of sympathy and placed her hand on his shoulder, trusting blindly for only a moment. "You are the right one to lead the rebellion, Burns, not me." 

He smiled grimly back at her, the two sharing unspoken words before he reached behind him for several cans of food and a refillable water bottle, handing them to her with a grim smile. "For your goods, madame President."

They proceeded to the front of the tent once again, where Burns whispered to her, "If it is at all useful in the future, the name is Nation. If you suspect that someone you meet is one of us, ask them when their birthdate is. The answer will be the 30th of February, and they will ask you when yours is. You are to answer the 4th of July." 

Stepping back from her, he bid her farewell, "Godspeed, ma'am, godspeed." Smiling back at him, she waved and was back on her way to the forest where she left Blackie.

* * *

 

Megatron walked with Soundwave through a northern slave camp, the insects rushing to keep away from their pedes. Some were not fast enough, and were squeezed to slush. Scowling at them, he kicked a few away.

_ "Your palace is nearly complete, my lord. The throne room is the only place still being finished," _ Soundwave stated in his monotone, deep Cybertronian. Laserbeak, who was perched on his shoulder, flew down and tormented a few of the slaves they passed.

_ "When will it be complete?"  _

_ "No more than 5 earth days." _ Megatron nodded, satisfied. She would be safe with him in no time - he had been practicing his human-handling skills after all. 

_ "If I may ask, Megatron, why the special treatment of this human femme?" _ Soundwave questioned. He had been greatly pondering it over the last week, and had seen no reason not to capture “her” - Megatron insisted upon referring to the human as “her” - at the time he gave her her tracker. Neither had he seen a reason to give her a tracker in the first place or why Megatron was using time to learn how to handle a human without injuring one. 

_ "I will clarify in due time, Soundwave. In the meantime, I want a complete report of everything about this last leader, all the way to her, ah, youngling time."  _

_ "I shall work on it immediately, Megatron,"  _ replied the Communications Officer, growing even more suspicious of his leader. There were no motives that he could think of for Megatron’s preoccupation with this female. 

Coming to the large, metal building that housed the supervisors Megatron dismissed Soundwave and entered.

Barricade stood at the ready, datapad in servo, and bowed,  _ "Greetings, my liege. I have a report on the cause of the mine collapse."  _ The scout knew that Megatron appreciated efficiency and timeliness. He offered his master the datapad with a confidence Megatron noted. 

_ "Excellent." _ Accepting the datapad, the Emperor asked, _ "Was it natural?"  _

_ "Negative," _ Barricade replied,  _ "It seems as though we have an insurgency group on our servos." _

_ "Very well, Barricade. Inform your subordinates that they are to watch the slaves more closely. If they so much as suspect a slave, they are to kill them instantly." _ The humans were being quite stubborn about accepting their place serving the Earth’s new masters. The insurgency effort, however, had been very disorganised and an amusement at best, taking pot shots that rarely affected anything of importance to him. 

Megatron added after a brief pause in which a smirk grew on his faceplates, _ "And make sure to make an example of them." _


	5. The Jet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

 

_ Since winter is approaching, it won't be wise to move North much farther. _

Currently, the horse and rider stood atop a hill on the outskirts of Jacksonville, the latter looking at a battered roadmap in one hand and holding a compass in the other. Eleanor decided that she would rather not travel north at all, after not seeing any towns worth the trip in Georgia. 

Looking west on her laminated, well-creased map she spotted a small town within a few days’ ride. She noted that the sun was in its noon position and, knowing that it would be dark before she knew it, Eleanor turned Blackie to the west and was on her way.

* * *

 

When she reached Live Oak in the morning of the second day, she could tell that something was not right; the former President was sure that something was following her, but when she turned to look nothing was there. Riding through what would have been an upper middle class neighborhood close to the center of town, everything was eerily quiet. There was no breeze to stir the trees, nor were any birds making any sounds. Her hair stood up on the back of her neck, an ancient warning system, and the horse under her felt tense. 

Eleanor turned the Blackie onto the road labeled  _ Main Street  _ with a rusted, crooked street sign and examined the ruined buildings. Most had to have been at least a century old, and therefore did not survive the Invasion very well; bricks from these structures were scattered across the street, but amazingly some stood as hollow shells whose broken windows seemed to follow her like eyes. 

She was not paying attention to her surroundings when she noticed a disturbing burnt pile of human remains on the side of the road; if she had been, she would have seen a shadow in an upstairs window throw a Molotov cocktail in her direction, which exploded just a foot behind her horse. If she had been paying attention, she would not have been as surprised as black-shrouded riders came at her through the alleys.

Nevertheless, Eleanor let loose an expletive and spurred Blackie into a full-on charge down the street, hooves pounding against weathered asphalt with great claps. She had had to run from bands of people like them before, and nearly every time she almost wept at the loss of civilization. Those robots had ruined everything, taken everything. Though these sorts of people might have been criminals before the Invasion, she had always thought that at least some must have been good citizens.

Now they were barely a step above animals. 

The mounted gang behind her gave chase through the abandoned roads of the small town, shouting at her while raising spears and knives.  _ Where are you Wilson? Why did they have to take  _ **_you_ ** _  from me too? _

* * *

 

The Emperor stood in his now-complete throne room, observing with interest. The black marble floors showed his reflection; the pillars embedded with precious gemstones glittered in the low light from the high-set windows shrouded in sheer black and purple cloth. In all, the cavernous room showed his opulence and complete dominance.

Nodding in satisfaction, he faced his Communications Officer who stood at attention.  _ "Perfect Soundwave. Do you have a labor force ready to keep it this spectacular?"  _ Earth was going to be the new Decepticon homeworld, and it simply would not do to have his Earth palace anything less than pristine. 

Especially if he was almost ready for his sparkmate’s arrival. He wanted to make an excellent impression with her when he showed her her new home.  

_ "They are awaiting your inspection, Megatron," _ Soundwave gestured with a servo out the enormous, heavy front doors. 

Walking into the gleaming morning light, he looked over the amassed slave force, once again giving his approval.  _ "Assign them as you see fit, Soundwave. However, I am in need of a specialized slave or two." _ He had read Soundwave's report of this "Eleanor" as well as researched on the preserved Internet what a human female would need. 

After describing the skills necessary, his officer asked tentatively,  _ "If I may ask, why are you in need of these capabilities? We are going to execute her, are we not?"  _ This order, after the past few weeks of helping his master learn how to handle humans, simply made it impossible for Soundwave to contain his curiosity any longer. 

Taking his most trusted officer inside the throne room once more, away from prying human eyes and ears (as well as their Cybertronian equivalents), he questioned  _ "You remember Circuitsia, do you not?" _ Having been given an affirmative nod from Soundwave, the Lord continued,  _ "Do you remember her promise of reincarnation?" _

_ "Yes," _ Soundwave answered, wondering where his master was going with this. He couldn’t be insinuating  _ that _ , could he? Megatron hated humans for imprisoning him, perhaps more than any other ‘Con. 

_ "I suspect that Eleanor's human form carries her soul. Need I explain further?" _ Soundwave gave a no, all the pieces now clicking into place. He dared not question Megatron’s sanity,  _ especially _ not when his Lord sounded impatient as he did now. 

_ "Now, I need those humans by tonight. Alert the high-ranking Decepticons that they are to report within 30 Earth minutes after sunset tonight to this room, and also get a broadcasting team ready. You are dismissed. _ " Soundwave dipped his helm respectfully and took his leave. 

Comming Starscream and cutting him off before he could give some aft-kissing greeting, Megatron ordered with a smirk  _ "Get her, and if she has so much as a  _ **_scratch_ ** _ I will offline you myself." _ Megatron left his throne room for his quarters; he still had a few things to sort out before tonight, when he was to be finally rejoined with his mate.

* * *

 

The gang's horses were much larger and stronger than her mare and were starting to gain on her. Remembering the bow and quiver she had strapped to the saddle, she hastily loaded and fired, managing to hit one of the horses and sending him and his rider to the ground in a stroke of luck. 

The mob pursuing her shouted louder now, and their horses ran faster. Panicking, she notched an arrow and just as she was about to shoot something flew over the group, the loud  _ crack _ throwing off her already poor aim.

"Oh no, please..." she begged as she saw the pair of F-22s circle back around. The gang, seeing this too, decided that she was not worth the chase and split into the forest on the sides of the road. 

The jets came back towards her and she turned, knowing that if she could just make it into the cover of trees she could disappear. But her luck was gone as one of the robots fell from the sky in front of her horse, sending the mare rearing. She felt the impact of its partner behind her and cold dread settled into her stomach; she was trapped. It was over. 

A year of running had come to an end. There was no escape for her and she felt herself becoming dizzy as her heart beat quicker and quicker, seemingly trying to break out of her chest and keep running without her.

As one of the beasts reached toward her with claws that could cut her to ribbons, the former President cried out and, as the blood rushed to her head and the pressure became too much, promptly fainted on the back of her horse.

_ "We have her, Lord Megatron," _ Starscream commed, gently picking up the human femme from the back of her terrified steed before launching himself into the sky and transforming around her, buckling her into his cockpit. Thundercracker followed suit and the two F-22 Raptors flew back to base under the noon sun.

* * *

 

When Eleanor awoke, she was strapped into a jet cockpit. The screens and buttons on the console in front of her appeared normal, but alien script was flashing across the former and the buttons had different symbols on them. Remembering what had transpired, she quickly recovered from post-faint grogginess and started screaming and pulling against her restraints.

Agitated, Starscream spoke through the radio, startling her. "Fleshling,  **stop** right now or I will eject you  _ immediately _ ." Truthfully, he had no intention of following through on his threat (Megatron would publicly execute  **him** for depriving him of the pleasure of killing her) but it did have the desired effect.

Eleanor wasn’t sure what kind of death awaited her, but making a splat on the ground didn’t sound too great. 

She spent the rest of the ride watching the clouds pass faster than she had ever thought possible, so fast that she could barely focus on them. Snorting grimly she reflected,  _ They serve as the perfect metaphor for how my life is disappearing at the speed of sound; that nothing remains in my control. _

Not that anything had been in her control since a year ago anyway. Megatron had taken the privilege of freedom from her, from everyone. 

And she hated him for it. 


	6. The Diamonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I also do not own The Hunger Games trilogy.

Noticing that the clouds were passing slower now and that their altitude was decreasing, Eleanor felt even more afraid than she had before. "We are landing, fleshling." The Decepticon said through his radio, "Megatron will be so  _ pleased _ to see you," he added with a cackle. The name sent a shiver through her, and dug up memories of executions that she would rather forget;  _ he _ was the one to slaughter them all.

They dipped below the clouds and as the Cybertronian circled above, she saw in the early afternoon sun a brilliant metallic palace.  _ A brilliant  _ **_alien_ ** _ metallic palace.  _ But as she gazed up on it, she began to recognize the geography around it, as well as some of the trees.  _ Good God, please no,  _ she thought to herself,  _ please don't let it be where I think it is. _

Starscream, noticing her expression of shock and horror, laughed menacingly and said, "Welcome to Washington, D.C., fleshling." Nearing the ground, the jet transformed around her and caught her in its hand as ( _ he _ ?) landed.

_ "Where do I bring her, my liege?" _ Starscream commed. 

_ "Bring her to the east side entrance. There are two slaves and two guards waiting to accept her."  _ Megatron could barely keep his tone even, impatient to see her that night and start his relationship again. He had been so greedy for her since he had known that his dear Circuitsia lived, though it was in a disgusting  _ human _ body. 

Eleanor heard the thing speaking in a strange language before he started moving towards a side of the palace. Looking around, she saw slaves watching them curiously, some showing signs of recognition before their supervisor threatened them with a whip and they scattered back to their jobs.

Nearing the side of the enormous building she could see two robots, probably cresting ten feet in height, and two humans, dressed in colors different than the dark rags of the slaves she had just seen. Stopping in front of them, she was placed on the ground (very gently, she noticed in bewilderment), before the two jets left.

"Madame President? Is it really you?" 

Coming out of her stupor, she looked at the two women in front of her, gasping. "Susan? Grace?" They swept her up in a hug before the aliens prodded them apart. Eleanor couldn’t believe it - how had they survived, and why was she seeing them here? Why was she seeing them at all?

"Come," dark-haired Susan said, her blue eyes sparkling with tears. She gently took ahold of her right arm, leading her carefully in the motherly manner Susan had always had. 

"We have our orders," blonde Grace said, a slight look of sadness crossing her face, which Eleanor noticed had many more "worry lines" than before the Invasion.

The group went through the double doors and down a metal hallway, entering a door to the right. The (guards?) stood outside on either side of the door. The large room had a small bath ready, and she could see steam above the bubbles in the simple tub. "Go on," Susan said, "we will wait until you are in." Her former stylists turned their backs as she stripped off the ragged clothing, setting her pack (which she counted her lucky stars that the robots hadn't taken) next to the shamefully filthy pile. She had had only so many opportunities to find or barter for clean clothing. 

Dipping a toe in the water and finding it a blissful temperature she entered and sat on the bottom, sighing as the stiff muscles relaxed of their own will, and informing her friends that they could turn around. Immediately they came to her, bottles of different products in their arms. Her stylists had been nothing if not prepared. 

"I am so sorry," the former president apologized as she finally caved to the pressure on her shoulders,  "I have failed you as a leader. I swore an oath to protect and defend, and I broke it. Now, I am going to be executed and you will be stuck in this  _ mess _ ." She swallowed in an attempt to coax back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. 

"Now, now dear," motherly Susan said, pouring water over her head, "we were surprised that you made it this long, running from them. And besides, it is no one's fault that these monsters came  _ here _ , out of all the planets in the universe." Buried under the woman’s comforting tone was dark animosity. Eleanor could not tell whether it was for her or the Decepticons, but she certainly hoped it was aimed at the latter. 

Grace, pouring some soap onto a washcloth, added, "No one here blames you, ma'am. Like Susan said, it is not your fault that they came here. We were not strong enough technologically to beat them." The leader nodded, biting her lip in unwilling agreement. Even the whole world, in a last-ditch attempt to thwart the aliens, had not succeeded. The rest of the world leaders that had stood beside her were now dead, and she supposed with a shiver that she would be joining them tonight. 

"But my execution-" Nevertheless, she did feel a pain of guilt. Surrendering to a humiliating execution tasted an awful lot like desertion, to her at least. 

"Don't worry about it dear." Susan supported sympathetically, now massaging shampoo into her scalp. They remained silent for a while and Eleanor scrubbed herself with the washcloth, pleased to remove the grime that had accumulated in the few months since her dip in the ocean in the summer. She also tried to come to terms with her looming death, thinking over everything she had done right in her life. In this way she might find consolation over something which she held no control. Maybe she would be able to delude herself into all of this being a dream, and that dying was her actually waking up from a nightmare.  

But one fact prodded her like an annoying clothing tag.  

Breaking the silence, Eleanor asked, "Why the bath, if they are just going to execute me?" None of the others had appeared to be clean before they were slaughtered like cattle.  _ Perhaps sadistic Megatron has something even worse planned for me. Or he is teasing me.  _

She had assumed that all of the invaders were male. Megatron, especially. There was no way in hell a female could have a voice that _deep_. 

Susan and Grace shared a glance, and the former placed conditioner in her hair, untangling the knots, and answered cautiously, "We don't know, dear. Truthfully, we were wondering that ourselves."

* * *

 

Once she had finished bathing and shaving, the assistants placed towels and a robe next to the bath. Drying and wrapping the rather soft robe around herself, the stylists then continued with their job. The former President was led to a vanity with more bottles spread out. Sitting down, she noticed it was theater makeup, fake blood and all. She quirked an eyebrow, the hair on the back of her neck rising for the second time that day. 

Something fishy was going on here - and she didn’t like it one bit. 

Seeing the question already on her lips, Grace interrupted, "We can't say madame President. We were just told to put it on you." And so her face was painted with false scratches and bruises, even a black eye. Makeup done, Grace and Susan provided her with undergarments and went into an adjacent room. Looking over the thong and bra, she noticed that they were exactly her size.  _ Strange _ , she thought, putting them on and giving the women the all-clear. If she thought that the makeup had surprised her, she had no clue what to think of the garment they brought to her.

Grace and Susan carried a ripped skirt and matching ripped blouse, as well as dirtied white heels. As she slipped the tattered white blouse over her head, she realized that one rip bared her flat stomach. When Eleanor pulled on the filthy white knee-length skirt, a jagged tear exposed part of her left cheek. Turning to ask them again, they shook their heads no, and once again said that they were just following orders.

_ Disgusting. Absolutely whorish.  _

Her hair was dried and curled, her eyebrows plucked to their pre-Invasion shape, and her nails were trimmed and cleaned. Stepping out of earshot, the two females looked with sympathy over their charge, inspecting her. "Do you think  _ he  _ will find it satisfactory?" Grace whispered, smoothing her light blue tunic nervously. 

"I hope he does," Susan replied carefully, "I hope he does."

The women were rudely interrupted in their musings when one of the Decepticons opened the door and declared that it was time to leave. Eleanor rushed over to them, hugging them both for what she believed to be the last time. 

"I love you two so much," Eleanor whispered, trying not to cry. She had to stay strong, at least for them. She was the leader here, the one that they looked up to. She set an example, and if she started expressing the absolute sorrow and fear that she felt in her heart, they would panic and probably do the same. 

Grace whispered back, "Will you do one thing for me and every other enslaved human on this planet?" Their was a naughty tone in the stylist’s voice, and Eleanor found it to be a comfort. 

Pulling out of the hug, Eleanor replied, "Name it." If she was going to die anyway, why not go out with a bang?  _ If he doesn’t literally blow me up, that is.  _

"If you can get close enough, spit on him." Throwing back her head in a short laugh at the usually shy Grace's suggestion, Eleanor agreed to it. There was nothing more for her to lose, since she had already lost everything. 

Maybe, if it angered him enough, her execution would be faster. 

Susan took the time to give her one last tear-filled smile, saying "Put on your dealing-with-the-Russians face, girl, and make your people proud." 

Straightening, she lifted her chin and made her eyes fierce, asking, "This one?" Her stylists were trying their best to make her feel better, and Eleanor could not put into words how much she appreciated it. 

"Yes!" both of the women replied, laughing softly.

They walked her to the door and Eleanor gave each of them one last hug before being escorted by the robots to face her grim fate.

* * *

 

They stopped at the huge, heavy double doors at the front of the palace,  and Eleanor once again put on her "dealing-with-the-Russians face," just as the massive doors opened without a single sound. Not even a squeak or groan from the hinges that held the doors that appeared to be close to one hundred feet in height. 

The first thing she noticed was how  _ huge  _ the room was, thinking  _ It must be at  _ least _ the size of a football stadium. _ The trunk-sized white-marble pillars that lined the central walk were covered in jewels and she saw diamonds among them. She saw the crowd of massive alien robots, taunting her, but the most distinctive among them was the one on the marbled-white throne. Red orbs looked at her with interest, ignoring all else, in a head that shone silver. As her eyes looked over his body, the only word the former President could use to describe him was  _ titanic.  _ His entire form screamed masculinity and dominance as he stared down at her from his raised seat.

The television did a  _ beast _ such as him no justice. Fear tingled up her spine and made her knees lock for the briefest of moments.  **_Definitely_ ** _ a male.  _

Strength and power emanated from him in waves as he sat in his self-assured way. His legs were spread slightly and both arms rested on huge armrests.  _ I bet I could sit on one of those,  _ her mind theorized bizarrely,  _ they appear to be just the right size.  _

The guards prodded her forward, forcing her to walk into the central aisle. They closed the doors with the assistance of identical guards from the inside and left, leaving her to walk herself. She hadn't prayed in a long time, having been beyond hope and beyond scared, but as she took her first steps across the polished black marble floor she recited in her head:

_ The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. _

She saw two robots, one Jaguar-like and the other bird-like, come behind her. The Jaguar nipped at her heels, forcing her forward through the jeering crowd. She felt like a calf taken to slaughter, but tried not to let it show. 

_ He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. _

She had kept her chin up so far but the bird screeched at her, "Bow your head! Do  **not** look the master in the optic!"

_ Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, _

Now their jeers were louder, and she could hear them chanting, "President Squishy!" over and over. Angry and deciding that she had nothing to lose by raising her head and looking at the monster "in the optic", she did just that.

_ for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. _

She was in the last quarter of the walk now, and Eleanor continued to keep her chin up through the crowd of metallic monsters.  _ These are probably the last steps I’ll ever take. I will never see the sun or the moon again, or even the sky or trees. The sun will set and my people will suffer without me.  _

_ You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. _

She now saw that the throne was not of marble as she had thought; it was made of bones.  _ Human  _ bones.

A fire sparked in her chest and her jaw clenched until her teeth protested the tension. 

_ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, _

The former President continued to walk, propelled by anger and hatred at the being in front of her for the conquering and enslavement of her race, for the execution of her fellow leaders, some of whom were friends. None of this was fair, and she was about to show him a piece of her mind. 

_ and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. _

Reaching the foot of the dais, she stopped and Megatron gestured for silence with a single, resolute wave of a clawed hand. Immediately, all jeers and chants ceased.

The tyrant bored into her with his red optics and mocked her with a lazy gesture, "Behold, the President of the United States." Eleanor bit her cheek and maintained her gaze as the crowd burst into mechanical laughter, which bounded off of the walls and floor of the cavernous space.  _ I will probably never see another human again.  _

_ I am going to die in this room, to the sound of laughter and cheering as my blood is spilled on this marble floor.  _

"Kiss the pede of your ruler, insect!" the bird ordered her. Climbing the dais steps (which she had to pull herself up on, since they were almost taller than her), she hesitated, but was pushed harshly by the flying menace behind her.

Sighing in defeat and curling her lip with disgust and hate, she lent forward and placed a kiss upon the mud-encrusted foot of the Emperor and her executioner. Megatron, feeling her little peck upon his pede, sighed inaudibly and shuttered his optics for an instant. Making sure that she had backed away far enough, he stood to his full height, making Eleanor gasp in awe and fear. 

Bending, he made to scoop her up in his razor-sharp claws, causing Eleanor to tense up at seeing the probable instruments of her death.  _ My feet will never touch the ground again. The last thing I will feel is the harsh cold of his hand as it squeezes me like a ripe grape. _

Megatron noticed her fear and steadied himself, being sure to watch where he placed his talons and how much pressure he applied. Eleanor could only watch as hands that had crushed tanks picked her up carefully and gently. Megatron, unbeknownst to her, was being sure not to scratch her fragile skin and devoted much of his processor space to monitoring his claws. 

_ Beautiful _ , the Emperor mused as he looked into her steadfast face but terrified eyes. Small, soft-looking whisps of the fur on her head billowed in the breeze from his exhaust, framing her face rather well. He had to resist the urge to pass his claw over and through them to feel their texture - and Soundwave had mentioned that his human pet liked being stroked there.  _ Later. _

He could see that her stylists had flawlessly completed her false scratches and bruising, and he was pleased with the political move. Her pink lip components were open in a gasp, and he felt his fans kick on once more. Megatron also observed that the clothing, meant to mock her, exposed her flat stomach and a small portion of her aft. He growled appreciatively, wondering what else lay beneath the cloth. He could rip it open to expose her if he wished, but Soundwave had also mentioned that his female human was sensitive about being uncovered. 

He didn’t want to scare her more than she already was. The urge to cringe was ingrained behind the facade of strength in those beautiful, gray, organic optics. 

Eleanor looked into the metal face of her executioner, hoping that her own countenance did not betray her blind terror. When he growled, she stiffened even more at the harsh sound. The titan noticed this and ground out in his gravelly, deep voice, "Is it fear or courage that compels you, fleshing?" The room was silent as the President raised her head, giving him a look of defiance.  _ This is for you, Wilson, Grace, Susan, and everyone else killed or enslaved by this monster.  _

"Neither," she said, loud enough for the entire hall to hear, before she gathered up the saliva in her mouth and spat at him, hitting him right underneath his left optic.

Slaves around the globe, watching the broadcast under the whips and optics of their supervisors, cheered as President Eleanor Sherman defied their oppressor. Nation, gathered around the small screen in their headquarters, gave high-waves to each other. Leader Burns smiled, thinking  _ That's it, madame President, _ before telling his team to get propaganda ready and to hack into the broadcast - Ms. Sherman was going to give them a great opportunity that they had needed for some time. Susan and Grace gave smiles of their own, thinking for a fleeting moment that there might be hope.

Gasps sounded from the crowd and if looks could kill, the one Megatron was giving right now would have her dead in a heartbeat. Besides being disgusted with the organic fluid, the warlord was secretly impressed at her spirit. Hopefully he could tame her and still keep that intact without breaking it. 

But as it was, he simply bared his sharp teeth at her and roared. Eleanor almost fell out of the enormous metal hand, covering her ears to protect them from the all-encompassing roar. Once again the group laughed, this time clapping for their commander.

Furious and acting on a rush of adrenaline and pent-up hate, Eleanor gave a scream of her own back at him, making a show of bearing her own teeth in an animalistic snarl. It was probably pathetic, but at this point she didn’t care.  _ Not today, bastard.  _

"Get ready to broadcast!" Burns ordered once more, and the team member in front of him at the computer said "We're in, sir. We have a clip." 

"Now wait for my signal," Burns replied, intently watching the small TV.

Megatron narrowed his optics, a twinkle of an emotion she could not name as well as amusement hidden behind the glass lenses, and roared again. This time was much louder than the last and she squeaked embarrassingly, covering her ears again in a futile attempt to drown out the sound that was shaking her very bones. 

Done with having to live with survivor's guilt and a ringing in her ears, Eleanor cracked. She implored him, "Just kill me already." 

The beast holding her threw back his head in laughter, which perplexed her, and ground out silkily in a rough voice, "But I'm not going to." Eleanor, and Decepticons and slaves all over the world, were shocked. The former President especially, feeling robbed of the peace that death would bring. 

"Instead," he growled and gestured to a Decepticon on the side of the room (one that she recognized as having injected her) who now started coming towards them, "I wish to keep you as a reminder of the past of the human race, as a symbol of their position in the present, and as an emblem of their fate in the future. In other words," he was looking at her now, cruelty gleaming in his optics, "a pet."

The silver Mercedes had now reached the dais, and he held up a small object wrapped in satin. The Emperor picked it up, and Eleanor realized with horror that it was a diamond encrusted necklace, short enough to act as a collar. As he secured it around her small neck, the mass of Decepticons roared their approval. Touching her neck tentatively, she felt that the clasp had disappeared, as if it had never been there.

Seeing her grasp at the spot where it had sealed, Megatron whispered so that only she could hear, "Dear, only  _ I  _ can take it off." She looked up at him with eyes on the verge of tears and the Emperor of Earth felt a small portion of his spark wrench at her pain.  _ Shh, sweetspark, I’ll take care of you. It will be okay.  _ Steeling himself, he now looked out to the crowd and began his speech.

"The last insect leader has been conquered!" Megatron held his other fist in the air, and the crowd once more let loose an ear deafening cheer. Eleanor was still too flabbergasted to react, her hand still frozen around her neck.  _ Why? _

_ You couldn’t just embarrass me by  _ **_killing_ ** _ me? You  _ **_had_ ** _ to make me an animal?  _ **_Why_ ** _? _

"Now, no force remains to stand in our way, if there was one in the first place," the warlord mocked with a grin, and his army wailed in laughter. A robot on the side of Megatron, this one Eleanor knew had captured her, screechily praised "All hail Megatron!" which the masses repeated in a depressing chorus.

Seeing the right moment, Burns yelled, "Now!" The young man in front of him played the video, now being sent to every working screen in the world. Audiences all over the world watched in awe and surprise as the face of their master vanished, replaced by a man wearing glasses. Burns had anticipated it being cheesy, but perhaps what humanity needed was a joke that their invaders could not get in on, with just a hint of unhackable hope. 

Shouts from the broadcasting crew caught his attention, and just as he was about to rip into them for interrupting his victory speech, he saw on the temporary screens around the room a face different from his own.

"This is a pirate transmission from District-" the sound was cut off, but the man continued, "Repeat - this is a pirate transmission from District 13 with a message - The Mockingjay lives." The Decepticons succeeded in cutting off the recording, but the damage was already done. Young slaves all over the world, in that instant, recalled the story of one rebel with a bow and enough gall to take down a nation. Hope surged through them as they were ordered by bewildered supervisors to return to their shelters.

The crowd in the throne room was no different; all were perplexed by the meaning of the message. It was no secret to Eleanor, however, who could not hide her small smirk.  _ Good job, Burns. Now they think there are  _ **_two_ ** _ insurgency groups.  _

_ That was an interesting choice, however.  _ The Hunger Games _? Really? _

Megatron, infuriated at having been made a fool of, handed her over to Soundwave.  _ "Take my pet to my quarters, Soundwave. Stay with her until I come." _ The officer accepted with a hasty nod, gently cupping the human femme in his servos. Megatron then marched over to the terrified broadcasting team, and Eleanor could feel the floor shake under the force of his weight.  _ Probably weighs in at many, many tons.  _

_ That’s actually kind of impressive.  _

"Come fleshling," the robot, who she now knew was called Soundwave, headed toward a hallway. Eleanor, through her tears, realized that this terrible place was now her home. That her life was in the hands of the being  _ she _ hated with a passion, of the being that hated  _ her race _ with a passion. 

_ I am an animal to him,  _ Eleanor wept to herself silently,  _ It was not enough  for him to kill me.  _ Yet, despite all of that, her mind asked,  _ Then why did he call you "dear"? _


	7. The Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

 

When Soundwave stopped at a another large set of double metal doors, Eleanor was hopelessly lost. She had tried to count how many flights of stairs they went up and how many turns they made - in case she had an opportunity for escape - but her stress and lack of rest made it impossible; she felt as though she hadn't slept for a full 24 hours. The last time she had, it had only been for a few hours while on her trip to Live Oak. _That feels like_ eons _ago now._

Soundwave spoke in their language to the robots guarding the doors and they bid him entrance, throwing open the engraved doors that must have stood 75 feet feet high. He strode through confidently, and Eleanor now noticed the vulture and jaguar following.

She gasped, taking in the magnificent rectangular room. Although it was probably half the size of the throne room, it still appeared huge to her small human form. Seamless windows lined one long wall, running from floor to the ceiling 100 feet up where a large, futuristic chandelier hung. A massive metal table stood in the middle of the floor, parallel to the windows, with two chairs on opposite ends. There were more closed doors in the apartment, on either end of the room. At the far end, she could see what looked like a metal sectional with a matching metal coffee table in the center.

Soundwave strode toward the larger (dining?) table and placed her upon it. He did not take a seat in a chair, however. Instead, he remained standing, silent and completely ignoring her. The vulture swooped down and landed on the mirrored surface of the table, cackling at her and trying to pull at her skirt. When she tried to swat him away Soundwave said emotionlessly, "Laserbeak, come here." The bird relented and flew to him, landing on the Decepticon’s shoulder.

And so the human and Mercedes waited, neither of them sure of what her future held.

* * *

 

Megatron made his way impatiently through the halls of his palace, having beaten the scrap out of the broadcasting team for their inability to block _humans_ from the signal. All the officers had been dismissed, and were told to return to their posts around the globe.

 _She was so graceful_ , he thought to himself. Although she was terrified, as he saw in her eyes, she still kept her chin up, focused straight at him. She had even roared back at him, as small, puny, and weak as it had been. _Adorable._

 _She was tougher than the males of her species._ He remembered that they had already been weeping as soon as they saw him and had to be dragged to him, kicking and screaming the whole way _. A lot of gall she had too,_ a louder voice in his head argued, _she spat at you, hitting you in the faceplate, and all you did was roar at her. That wasn't even your_ ** _loudest_** _roar._  

 _What else could I have done? Their fragile human forms are weak, and I am not going to spend another thousands of vorns looking for her soul again,_ a smaller, quieter voice argued back. _Besides, she was so proud and in control, like a Queen_. He smirked, making the last turn into the hallway of his suites.

 _You cannot go too fast with her,_ the small voice in his processor whispered, _she was just captured today. Judging by her reaction, she does not remember you from before. She will need some time to adjust and learn again._

He knew that he couldn’t be as affectionate with her as his spark desired. She would panic and mistake him for some kind of perverted fiend who engaged in bestiality, or take advantage of her position and challenge him in public. As much as it irked him to wait more after an eternity of waiting, he would have to in order to claim his prize.

* * *

 

Eleanor growled, turning around to see the vulture once more yanking at her skirt. She was about to yell at him to stop it when a chilling, deep, gravelly voice did it for her. "Laserbeak, _do not touch_ what is not _yours_." Laserbeak shrank away, and she wheeled around to see the Emperor's crimson optics staring at her from the doorway. An icy finger traced up her spine and she fought the urge to shiver at how quietly someone as large as he had appeared.

"Soundwave, you are dismissed. You may return to your quarters," he said without moving his gaze from her as he walked towards the table.

Soundwave dipped his head, Laserbeak and the jaguar leaving soundlessly. The door shut with dismal echo, and they were alone. _Finally,_ Megatron thought to himself as he reached the table, allowing himself to take a seat. He was sure to be slow, all-too-aware of how nervous she was. _I won’t hurt you, little one. There is no longer a need to fear me._

Eleanor's thoughts were the polar opposite; the echo of the door closing was akin to her tomb being sealed. A weight dropped in her stomach with a sensation akin to being punched in the gut, _I’m **alone** with him. _

_Dear Lord, what is this monster going to_ **_do_ ** _to me?_ Her heartbeat quickened and her palms suddenly felt sweaty, and wiping them on her skirt did nothing to erase their claminess. Her muscles locked and she froze, as still as prey in an open field.

She watched him sit down, gears turning and clicking, the metal of the chair groaning slightly under his weight. He placed his claws on the table and leaned toward her slightly. Even seated he towered over her, and she wished she could disappear, just shrink until she no longer existed, as the monster opened his mouth to speak. "Pet, I imagine that you have plenty of questions, but they will have to wait. For now, I believe that I must show you your home."

Noticing her terror (which was only displayed in her eyes, not her face) he pulled back slightly, the tiniest portion of him mildly frustrated at his innate knack for intimidation. Eleanor, meanwhile, was annoyed at his use of the word "pet."

She watched him gesture with a hand to a door on the far side of the room, "Ou- **My** berthroom, and your quarters are in there, as well as my private washrack." He turned around in his chair, pointing at a door behind him, "Through there are my study and weapons room, which are off limits for _you_ unless you are with _me._ Understand?" Seeing her nod warily, Megatron now gesticulated around the room they currently occupied, "This I will use to hold meetings with my highest officers, but it will also serve as a ' _living room_.'" Now he pointed at a nondescript metallic box to the side of the room, saying "My Energon is stored in there, as well as some of your own food, which I will explain later."

He regarded her for the smallest of instants, debating what to do next. Quickly he reached the conclusion that settling her down for the night was his best option - showing her that he had a nest prepared for her, someplace warm and soft and safe, would score him points. 

The titan stood and scooped her up in a clawed hand, and she yelped at the sudden movement. Megatron, worried that he had hurt her, checked her for a fleeting moment and, seeing nothing, looked up again before she could notice. _It must have been from surprise._

He carried her with massive strides over the black marble floor to the door he had said was his "berthroom." Pressing a button next to the door, he turned off the lights in the living space and the panel slid open, revealing another room the size of the one they had just left, but this one with a larger, lower table with smaller tables on either side. Each one of the shorter tables held a lamp that cast a soothing blue light around the room.

Another sectional and coffee table was set up in this room, but it held three levels. Bending, he placed her on the middle level of the coffee table. "Your quarters, my pet." He clicked the claws on one servo together, anxiously awaiting her inspection. He had tried his hardest to make sure that everything there was to her liking, even begrudgingly allowing light blue - an fragging _Autobot_ color - to tinge most of the furnishings.

Eleanor had been expecting a filthy cage with something like a hamster wheel, or maybe one of those big, outdoor dog kennels with chain link and a roof.

Not an actual _room_.

The space was walled in on three of the four sides, giving her a small amount of privacy. A white queen-sized bed - _an actual_ **_bed!_ ** she thought ecstatically - stood against one wall, ( _clean_ ) sheets and blankets in alternating shades of blue, and two matching white nightstands stood on either side, each with a matching light-blue lamp. On the opposite side stood a white vanity, with drawers and all. There was also a blue changing screen, but no closet, and an alien television of some sort was mounted to the wall above the vanity. Blue rugs covered the flooring, adding a cozy touch to the cold, hard metal of the room.

The former President felt a chill go through her, thinking with a start, _All of this must have taken at least a week to find, and I was only brought here this afternoon. It is as if he was_ **_ready_ ** _for me._

 _And how did he know that blue is my favorite color?_ Maybe that was the most unsettling of them all, and it was quickly dismissed with _It is probably just a coincidence._

 _"_ What do you say to your master, pet?"

She turned around to face the red optics behind her and thought cynically, _Time to make the most of a bad situation. Maybe if he trusts you and you act like the perfect little human_ **pet** _you will have a better opportunity to escape. "_ Thank you," she forced herself to say, taking up a shy pose, "It is very kind of you."  

He moved slightly closer to her and let out what sounded like a purr before growling "Slaves, come here." All the while the monster was still looking at her, an expression on his metal face that she could not read. From behind the changing screen came Susan and Grace, who greeted her tentatively, looking to their master and asking a silent question. Megatron gave a tiny nod, and the women proceeded to hug their former President.

"I have decided that they will remain your stylists. Their quarters are down that staircase," he stated, nodding towards the back of her "room." Susan and Grace took this as a hint to leave and quickly and quietly descended the spiral stairs, Grace giving her a look of sympathy before her face disappeared from view.  

"You may now recharge, my pet. You will be fed tomorrow." As much as he craved to provide her with sustenance, he had to be careful with his actions.

Which meant that he could not recharge with her on his chassis tonight as he wished to.

With that utterance, the tyrant left her to her musings as he stood and left, metal feet - pedes - pounding against marble flooring. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she kicked off the dirty white heels and ran down the metal staircase to Susan and Grace's "room,” if it could be called that.

Theirs was walled on three sides, like hers, but did not have any light sources within it at all. In the dark, she could barely make out their forms, sitting on dirty, old mattresses with ripped, filthy, and thin blankets. Her bare feet felt only cold metal. "Susan? Grace?" she asked quietly, unsure whether Megatron could hear them or not. The forms turned to her, and this time did not hesitate in greeting her.

"You did so well. We were so proud of you madame President," Grace tearfully whispered.

"Yes dear, the look on his face after you spit on him is something we will cherish forever," Susan agreed, a grin in her voice.

Grace quietly exclaimed "I have something for you!" before running back to her mattress. She picked up an object, which Eleanor could not recognize because of the dark.

Coming back to her and smiling, Grace held out her pack. "I'm sorry madame President, but after you left I went through your bag and found some, um, _papers of importance_ inside. I was going to keep this, but-"

She was interrupted by Eleanor swooping up into a hug, saying "Thank you so much, Grace."  

Grace smiled up at the slightly taller woman, "It was the least I could do ma'am. I thought you were going to be executed and therefore needed someone else to protect them, but since the _master_ changed his plans, I thought they were better off with you." Taking her hand between two of hers, the President thanked Grace once more. They then insisted that she go up to her own room to sleep, and Eleanor weakly resisted before relenting. It had been a very stressful day and a sequel was likely to follow tomorrow.

Taking the pack and shoving it under the bed out of sight, she grabbed two of her extra blankets, knowing that early winter in Washington D.C. could be freezing. _Especially in a metal palace,_ a cynical voice droned in her head, as she went downstairs with the thick blankets. Though they refused profusely, Eleanor persisted and they were accepted with much thanks.

Finding herself in her own room again, she now noticed that the chair at the vanity held pajamas for her. Scooping them up, she inspected their blue tone and the softness of the fabric. Eleanor could not resist rubbing it against a cheek, marvelling at the silkiness of the plain clothing.

She changed behind the screen, grateful to be out of the disgraceful, ripped, glorified rags. She then slid into the soft bedding, turning out her lamps. As she lay there trying to get some much-needed rest, she thought over everything that had happened that very long day. 

_This morning I woke up a free woman on the run. Tonight, I go to bed as a captive pet. Amazing how fast things can change, how quickly they can slip out of your reach, like the clouds I saw earlier._

Abruptly, her mind reminded her of one, very unsettling truth. _I spat in his face, and all he did was roar at me. No mutilation, chopping or pulling of limbs, anything. He didn't even scratch me._ Burrowing deeper into her soft pillows - which she had been deprived of for a long time - she reflected, _All of this comfort for just a pet?_

A chill ran down her body, muscles clenching and relaxing quickly in a shiver, as she thought, _He has something else planned for me, and that just unsettles me more._

 _But you are alive and_ his _pet. You could be an important source for Nation, a double agent. You just have to find someone that can transport the information for you._

However, it was best that she was rested for whatever horrors she would face tomorrow. Just becuase he had yet to hurt her didn't mean that he never would. Troubled at the last thought the captured President slowly drifted into sleep, unaware of the dim red optics glowing at her back, watching over their future mate in her slumber - noting her comfort and her percieved happinness with great masculine satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always appreciated. :D


	8. The Slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of right now, I still don't own Hasbro :/. Therefore, only the OCs belong to me.  
> Warning - The section at the end of this chapter is very gory, and is not recommended for the faint of heart.

****When Eleanor awoke, she was warm and surrounded by blankets in a lightened bedroom. Seeing a thin sheet of metallic glass on her nightstand, she picked it up and saw the digits 7:13 read across the surface in light blue. When she returned it to the table, the odd screen clicked off. Deciding that she would rather be up than wait for that monster to surprise her, she switched on the cordless lamps - _Must be battery powered_ \- before standing and stretching. She looked out the missing wall of her room to the floor to ceiling windows of the apartment, seeing an overcast morning. _I must not wake them up. It would not be fair nor polite._

She raised a hand to her face and found that she still had last night's makeup on. Making out the smears on the pillows, she scowled, _Great, now you're stuck with dirty pillows the rest of the time you are here. Good going._ Shivering slightly in the cold air, she went over to the vanity to see if there was anything to clean her face with.

Opening the drawers, she found assorted makeup and hair styling products, all still unopened. She also discovered some paper with pens and pencils, a hair dryer, curler, flat iron, brush and comb set, and even some feminine hygiene products, but no makeup wipes.

As she was going through the makeup drawers again to see if she missed them, the President heard footsteps on the staircase. Looking up, she saw Grace and Susan there. "While you were sleeping, _Master_ brought us your clothing for you to wear today," Grace said, holding out a bag with a nervous expression.

Eleanor accepted the bundle and immediately saw the reason for such a countenance. "Good God, please no," she said in absolute shock, "Is this what I think it is, and if so, where in the _hell_ did he _get_ this?"

"It is ma'am. I recognize it from the show right before the Invasion," Susan said softly. Eleanor held up the famed jeweled bikini set, the diamonds glittering in the morning light against the dark purple fabric.

She stared at it in abstract horror, looking over the gold, diamond, and purple swirl that hung from the center of the brassiere. "This might not even fit me. Its supposed to go on a _model."_

 _"_ He assured us it would ma'am," Grace said quietly.

"And how on God's green Earth would _he_ know what would fit _me_ ?" Eleanor exclaimed, losing her temper. _Why does he even care?_

Sighing, Susan answered, "Dear, in the morning before they brought you in, he _asked_ us for your measurements. He threatened us with _death_ if we didn't comply."   _Of course he did._

Sitting down on the bed, suddenly feeling dizzy, Eleanor placed her hands over her eyes and asked calmly, "So he knew you were my stylists before the Invasion."

"He must have." Eleanor sat quietly, taking a few deep breaths before standing. She still wasn’t calm, far from it, but her thoughts were at least collected. _None of this makes sense._

"Well, let's see if those clothes from yesterday are still here."

They still sat where she had thrown them last night, but as she made the move to get them, Grace grabbed her arm. "Ma'am, all due respect, but he told us that if you didn't comply with his orders he would have us tortured then killed."

Seeing the terror in her eyes, Eleanor relented. "Very well, I'll try this stupid thing on." Keeping her pride intact was not worth them losing their lives and then being forced to wear this whorish outfit.

Surely enough, the outfit was snug. _Damn it all to hell_ , she thought as she stared in the mirror of her vanity at her flat stomach and toned legs, which were shown off by strappy gold stilettos. She also showed a few ribs from living on the brink of starvation, but it was not terribly evident. _I have lost weight._

She had never been one for working out but living on the brink of starvation and constantly running or fighting in fear, as well as the effect of stress on a human body, had slimmed her down to trim muscle and bone.

Her stylists pulled her hair up into a plait, and her makeup was done (after the old was removed when Susan found the wipes). "Did he say anything about coming to get me?" She dreaded having to face that nightmare again. She still couldn't wrap her head around why he had spared her. 

"No," Susan said, enveloping her head in a cloud of hairspray, making Eleanor give a little cough, "He just said to have you ready when he did."

And come for her he did, footsteps making the room shake just slightly. When he bent down, his red optics gazed at her in approval and Eleanor thought she heard a growl.

 _Is he **leering** at me? _ Her skin crawled, and her arms locked themselves over her bare belly. 

"Come, pet. You are hungry, yes?" Her stomach gave a rumble, answering the question for her, and he chuckled menacingly. Her offered her a hand to get into and Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him in wariness. He expected her to just climb in like the perfect lapdog he wanted her to be, but it appeared that she had no other choice.

Even this little surrender was disgusting to her. It was only a few steps, but it meant so much. That, and the paralyzing fear of what he could do at any moment made her want to hide under her bed and never surface. 

A proud President reduced to a skittish mouse. 

She reluctantly stepped onto his waiting hand (which was difficult in heels) and he left the berthroom to the main room before setting her gently on the floor next to the rectangular box. Unbeknownst to Eleanor Megatron was still being very, very mindful with his movements - he was still not accustomed to handling humans so carefully. Soundwave had reminded him that trust was essential to forming a bond with her, for he had to prove himself as her friend instead of her enemy. 

He touched the shiny metal surface and it opened outward, like a refrigerator. On the higher shelves were large cubes of pink, slightly glowing liquid. The titan grabbed one and indicated for her to choose something on the lower shelves where small black containers, similar to restaurant leftover boxes, sat. She took one not thinking it mattered and he scooped her up again. Yelping at the cold of his hand made the beast chuckle deep in his huge chest, sending a tremor through her small body.

Depositing her on the table he took a seat himself and looked her over in more detail.  The clothing she wore did not leave much to the imagination of his processor and he greedily drank in the sight of her frail body seated before him. Bumps showed underneath her pale skin on her sides and she was very lean. Soundwave had told him the she would probably be running on empty tanks from living where human fuel was scarce. He could see hunger in her organic optics, and his spark twinged at having kept his little mate starving.

She asked him a question, which brought him out of his stupor.

"Press the orange button, dea- **fleshling** ." He corrected himself quickly. Eleanor noticed this but kept her mouth shut, following his instruction and seeing that the box held a steaming plate of eggs with some sausage on the side. Again, she grew suspicious, _Tracking down my stylists, finding out my favorite color, lavishly furnishing a room for me, and now this? Something is_ definitely _up here._

Eleanor moved away, scooting backward to give herself more space between them. She would have preferred to be out of arm's reach, but a hand set itself behind her before she could get too far. 

She started to eat, using her hands in the absence of a fork, and watched him out of the corner of her eye. Her captor had held the liquid to his mouth, and was drinking it at an alarming rate. He drained the cube, which was about her size, in less than ten seconds.

Seeing her gape at him he gave her a grin, baring his sharp fangs and crushing the cube in his fist. Her jaw clicked shut and she abruptly looked away as he gave a short laugh. Noticing that she was eating slowly and with grace - even without their customary utensils - Megatron said lowly, "You are not at a diplomat's meeting, my pet. **Eat**."

She remained eating gracefully - not wanting to reinforce his notion that she was an animal - but did take his statement as an implicit order to eat quicker. She had been resisting wolfing her food down because she didn’t remember the last time she had eaten a meal this size, and his order crumbled her notion of etiquette on her part. Instead of being driven away from the fold becuase of the stress' inpact in her appetite, the sight of a hot, sizable meal turned her into an animal. 

Megatron smiled softly as she ate, observing with interest how she chewed each mouthful for a nanoklik and swallowed, those tiny muscles working to bring her food down to her tanks. Her fuel was disappearing at an alarming rate, those little servos keeping busy as they filled her mouth.

Soundwave had been right - she _was_ ravenous. He wondered with a pang when she had eaten last. _If only I would have found you sooner, my dear. There was no need for suffering on your part._

Again he was reminded of just how close she had come to offlining in the time between his takeover and today, when she was living in the wilderness where human food was scarce. According to the charts he had seen of healthy human females, she had come close. He shouldn't be able to so easily spot those subframe supports - they were supposed to be covered with organic tissues. 

He had to resist the urge to pet his little one's helm to soothe her, since the reaction would likeiy be the opposite of what he wanted. Additionally the last thing that he wanted was for her to learn that refueling with him, her rightful mate, was a frightening and stressful experience. She was just so tiny, everything about him must be terrifying. 

Had she tried to cower away from him out of fear, or was she trying to protect what she must have discerned was food? He would never give her fuel only to take it from her. 

But she didn't understand that. All she knew was that he was far bigger and could take it if he desired.  _You will never know an empty tank again, precious. I'll take care of you._

_There will always be plenty for you to eat._

Not a second had gone by since she took her last bite and he grabbed her again. "We must have you checked, Eleanor." She gave a start at his first use of her name and he took no notice, continuing out the doors and saying "We wouldn't want you to have any diseases." 

_Yet another way in which you could be stolen from me._

* * *

 Reaching a simple door on what she assumed to be the first floor, Megatron entered a code and walked through. She saw more of the strange tables she had seen in his berthroom and mused, _those must be like beds for them._

He set her down on one, roughly his time, and pinned her with a hand. Alarmed by thr sudden change in behaviour, from overwhelming gentleness to manhandling, she tried to flail but no use came of it; he was just too big, too strong. The entire hand - and then some - covered her completely, two tong-like digits holding her arms still, and the rest of the claws rested on the surface around her. _That's all he needs to pin me?!_ **_Two_ ** _effing fingers?,_ Eleanor thought angrily to herself.

 _"_ Doctor," the towering figure growled, "It is time for her examination." She cringed, the voice that had been forgiving earlier now scary and hard. A spider-like creature with glowing red orbs landed next to her, two other creatures following. She felt a shiver run down her spine and she whined lowly - she _hated_ spiders, and this one was **huge**.

"Zhe human is very fit, Megatron," Doctor said in a thick accent, jumping onto her stomach. Eleanor stiffened her stomach muscles in response, feeling the Doctor's sharp legs poke into her unprotected skin. 

(He?) sauntered up to her face, a glass dropping in front of one optic. She made as if to spit at him, but a slight squeeze in the tongs holding her and a warning gaze from Megatron quieted her. She let him look over her face, muscles tensed, and he gestured for one of the creatures to bring him something. A small, wormlike robot was placed on her chest and the Doctor forced her mouth open. Realizing what he was trying to do, she yanked and pulled with all of her might against the restraints, not even budging Megatron's grip on her.

Megatron saw her wide, fearful eyes, felt her panicked pulling in her terror, and decided to have sympathy for her. After all, although his mechs hated the Doctor, she was a small human whose only defense was him. As her mate he needed to defend her, and as a human she needed all the help he could give her. He placed one of his metal claws within the reach of her small servo, recalling that touch was something that always calmed Circuitsia, and she instantly wrapped her tiny fingers around his large one.

Eleanor was so shocked at his action that she did not notice the worm dive into her throat and gagged as it went up and stuck some of its tendrils out of her nostrils. Just as she felt that she was about to choke it made its way out, leaving her mouth and landing in the Doctor's waiting servo.

She watched with interest as the creature projected strange characters into the air and the Doctor nodded at the display before discarding the slug. "Zhe female is still fertile, if you vish to breed her." Eleanor gasped, angered by the concept, and Megatron gave her a look.

He withdrew his hand from over her, gentleness returning as it cupped her and held her against his chest. The bipolarity of his actions confused her and also scared her. The massive conqueror had just demonstrated that his tenderness could be replaced by harshness in an instant, and then return again. Nothing, therefore, was sure with him. She stiffened in resurging fear. 

He had turned to the Doctor, speaking in their language. All she could do now was sit where she was, holding the talon of her captor, as she listened to them converse. Hopefully she wasn’t going to be forced to copulate.

 _"She will_ **_not_ ** _be used for breeding, Scalpel. Now, what else came up in the scan?"_

 _"Everything is fine, but she is a little underweight,"_ the Doctor said in perfect non-accented Cybertronian. “ _She will need a specific diet.”_

Nodding, Megatron said, _"I wish for you to work on a project with Soundwave and Shockwave that is of utmost importance to the Empire."_

* * *

After leaving the medbay Eleanor was no more comfortable around the tyrant, which Megatron noticed with slight exasperation. Why couldn't she just relax?

The Emperor ascended the dais in his empty throne room and sat down upon his throne, placing Eleanor in his lap. Being careful of the sharp edges of the plating on his thighs, she picked her own seat and rested, facing him.

Once she had relaxed a bit, he moved one of his enormous hands to her head and began to ever so carefully pull the hair out of the plait. He liked it that way, but now he wanted to stroke his claws though the strange protein strands. Besides, she seemed much more comfortable with him since yesterday. He must be doing everything correctly for such a rapid improvement. 

She ducked at first, stiffening when she thought that he might be done with her and was going to pop her head like a grape. Instead, he began to loosely pull at her braid. The action reeked of his power and control over her, as well as the belief that he was entitled to do whatever he wished with her. She exclaimed indignantly " _What_ do you think you are doing?" before she realized _how_ she was speaking and _who_ she was talking to.

Megatron growled back at her, "You will be wise to refrain from such a tone.” He continued to pull her hair out of its pattern and Eleanor was noticeably stiff under his touch. “Be mindful of who you address, pet."   _You cannot have sympathy for her all the time,_ his processor whispered, _If you do, she_ and _your army will walk all over you._

 _However, such boldness is a sign that she is overcoming her fear._ All of the strands out, he began to stroke her little helm carefully. Each of them was very fine, so tiny and thin that on their own he could not sense them; only altogether could he feel their texture.

As he slid his talons through her soft, shiny locks, Eleanor relaxed into the gentle touch and closed her eyes, forgetting herself for a moment in the tender petting. Unseen, Megatron bared his denta in a small smile at her enjoyment of his attentions. His mate was simply adorable becuase she was so tiny, but all relaxed in his lap as he pet her made his spark purr with happiness. She regained her senses before she asked, "Why did you _really_ take me as a pet? Out of all the leaders to keep, why _me_?"

The red optics turned to her and, seeing the inquisitive light in her eyes and also an unspoken challenge, Megatron responded, "For the reasons I have already stated. I wanted a symbol of the inferiority and enslavement of the human race, so I got one. And who better than the former leader who held the most powerful leadership position on Earth?" His strokes were rougher, more possessive now, and she bristled at his words. Of course none of it was true, but Megatron would gladly tell her the truth of why he had kept her later. 

Right before he thrust himself into her val-

Eleanor, against her better judgement, pressed further and asked testily "Then why track down my stylists, lavishly furnish an apartment for me, in my favorite color no less, and show me sympathy in the medbay? If I really am just a _symbol_ , why the special treatment?”

He was furious now because he had no answer to her questions - he should have expected his intelligent mate to ask about those things - but a small portion of him felt proud and impressed that she had pieced those things together and that she had the courage to speak them. Regardless, he growled at her and said in a chilling voice, "Perhaps I need to remind you of what I am capable of, my _pet,_ so that you will learn to properly respect your _master_." _And_ _refrain from interrupting_ _my thoughts._

He sneered at her, baring his sharp denta, and commed Soundwave, _"Bring a slave into my throne room, and make sure it is expendable."_

Eleanor heard the enormous doors open and Soundwave entered with a human slave. When they got closer, she saw that it was a man. Cuts and bruises covered his body, and his clothes hung in rags from his lean, filthy frame. "Kneel!" Soundwave commanded the man who fell to the marble floor at the bottom of the dais, oily locks swinging.

The Emperor stood and handed her to Soundwave, sneering "Watch closely, my pet. Make sure that you remember this."

The titan bent and scooped up the prone form of the slave, paying no heed to gentleness. His claws sliced deep cuts in the man's sides and the human yelped at the pain. Blood was immediately leaking from the wounds, dripping onto Megatron’s hand and then cascading to the floor like red rain.

There was no gentleness that he had shown to her, no recognition at all of the human as a sentient being. Terror tightened her throat and sadness gripped her heart. 

Taking ahold of a forearm, Megatron pinched the limb and the sound of bone shattering and an agonized scream filled the chamber. It hit her in her very core and she flinched with empathy. Watching Megatron execute people on television had provided a barrier, a flimsy protection from the event. It had still been gruesome but was not as immediate.

Here, there was no screen. It was undeniably _real_.

Moving his talons upwards to the joint at the shoulder he pinched once again, effortlessly severing the destroyed arm from the slave, who let out a bloodcurdling screech, before discarding the limb to the floor. Eleanor let out her own scream, covering her mouth with a hand as her eyes filled with tears. The sight of the pulverized bone made her limbs stiff with horror. 

After doing the same to the other arm, Megatron looked her straight in the eye and, in one smooth, effortless motion, crushed the man to a pulp in his fist. When he opened it, a bloody mass fell to the floor next to the two severed limbs. A choked sound left her, eyes wide as horror shook her mind. 

Knowing that she had learned her lesson, Megatron took his pet in his clean servo - despite her flinching away and distressed crying - and began the walk back to his apartments. He drowned out her cries with his own thoughts, irritated that she had pushed him into dirtying himself.


	9. The 30th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

 

Upon re-entry into his suites Megatron headed straight for his washrack, wishing to rid himself of the organic's flesh and blood. Eleanor stayed along for the ride, still crying quietly in his servo. He did not feel sorry for her this time, though. _She brought this on herself._

That was what he told himself, anyway.

Depositing her none-too-gently on the cold marble floor of the washroom, he pointed at a rectangular metallic box against the wall of the room, ordering, "Get in there!" The Emperor watched, pleased as she scrambled into her own bathroom - as he believed humans called it. He couldn't keep his optics from her retreating aft, which was accentuated by the heels she wore. _Not now._

"Slaves!" He bellowed, Grace and Susan appearing in the large doorway. "Attend her!" He ordered, before turning on his heel and entering the showers, slamming the door behind him.

When Eleanor reached the box, she yanked the door open and stumbled inside a bathroom. Lit by afternoon sun streaming through the ten-foot windows, the polished white marble floor gleamed. A simple tub was in the center of the room and cabinets lined the far wall. She also noticed a shower in one of the corners, and a toilet and sink in another. She heard him yell another order and an ear-splitting slam, and soon Grace and Susan occupied the room with her.

They started the bath and Eleanor fell into a chair, sobbing to herself. Susan and Grace, of course, inquired about why she was crying and as Eleanor undressed and sank into the water, she told them the whole story. Considering all she had been through in the past year, she was surprised that she was so emotionally raw from this event.

She realised, with all sinking heart, that she should have been used to it by now.

_He’s dead because of me. If I had not done anything, if I had listened to him, that man would be alive._

After she had finished with most of her weeping, Grace and Susan exchanged sad but unsurprised glances. Susan started, "He has done this before, my dear. He does it as a warning, frequently to a mass of slaves, to prevent insurrection. It is also to instill terror, because he knows that this gives him power." It was so matter-of-fact that Eleanor felt bile rise in her throat.

Grace handed her a towel and continued after Susan, "I think that he was trying to distract you from the questions you asked. Maybe he had no answer to them." She had no reply. What was there to say?

Eleanor dried and dressed in the jeweled garment, Grace and Susan ushering her out the door. "Time to face him again, my dear. You must be careful what you say."

The door closed and Eleanor turned to the silver giant before her, fighting the urge to snarl and bare her teeth. "Come, fleshling."

He was much calmer as he placed her in his lap on the sectional, even stroking her still-damp hair. "Have no doubt that I will do that again, pet, unless you fix your attitude." The rubies looked upon her greedily, and for a fleeting moment she thought that she saw _lust_.

"Of course," she whispered, staring at her hands.

A claw tilted her chin up at him, and the tyrant asked, "Of course _who_ , pet?" His optics dared her to disobey, as did the sharp talon under her chin.

"Of course, _master_ ," the human femme submitted, a single tear falling onto his cold thigh, and he continued to softly stroke her.

"You will stay here tomorrow, I must visit the Asian slave camps to check on their progress." He suddenly had a huge tablet in his hand, no longer watching her as he read and stroked her head.

* * *

 When he returned her an hour later to her own, afternoon-lit room and left, something about having business elsewhere, Eleanor noticed that her bed had been made and the pillow cases changed. Gone were the ripped blouse and skirt and her pajamas had been replaced new ones. She changed into the fresh clothing and went to bed - defeated, tired, guilty, and emotionally exhausted. When she placed a hand underneath her pillow, she felt a crinkle.

Turning on a lamp, she pulled out a dirty, torn piece of paper on which was scrawled, _When is your birthdate?_ Unsure whether this was a trick or an actual prompt for Nation's security code, she thought to herself, _That's why it is a two part question. You answer the impossible date of February 30th, and they answer the 4th of July. Anyone who isn't in Nation would object to your answer, and you could say that you misspoke. It's brilliant._

Getting up and padding over to the vanity, she found one of the pens and scrawled back, _February 30th. When is yours?_ Excited, Eleanor tucked the small piece of paper back underneath the pillow and turned out the light. She succumbed to a deep sleep, free of silver tyrants and slavery, free of the nightmares of her new life.


	10. The Friend and the Foe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Eleanor was awoken the next morning by Susan, who lead her downstairs, through their quarters, and onto the floor underneath the table.

From there, she was taken into the bathroom - via a smaller door besides the much larger one - and into her own small box. Grace was waiting, looking out the windows where the dawn light was starting to show across an early winter sky. They then showed her the cabinets, which held a variety of clothing, and said that he had allowed her to pick out her own outfit for that day. "He said to remind you that he was going to the Asian continent to check on a few things, and that Soundwave will be watching you today." Susan said, as they left her to riffle through the tops and bottoms.

Picking out a cashmere sweater and jeans, as well as a pair of dark leather boots from a drawer, she walked to the shower alcove and experimented with the knobs. Once the water was warm, she deposited her pajamas into the wicker basket and stepped in, feeling the water massage her skin.

She went through her shower routine and as she finished with scrubbing her body, her hands inadvertently went over the collar at her neck. Biting her lower lip, she turned off the spray and leant against the granite wall, trying to keep herself from breaking. _You're already broken. He crushes an innocent human being_ **_in front of you_ ** _and an hour later you are letting him pet you as if nothing happened,_ the snide voice in her head criticized.

_But if I had fought him, he might have just killed someone else._

After she had dried and clothed herself - with clothes that fit her flawlessly, another odd factor - she went back into the berthroom and saw Susan waiting for her. Eleanor was led (again through a smaller door in the wall) into the main living room, where the silver jaguar sat waiting for her. Susan turned to her and handed her a small bag, whispering "Take these, they might come in handy later." Noticing how the stylist was hiding the bag from the robotic animal with her body, Eleanor raised an eyebrow but tucked the bag in a pocket nonetheless.

Eleanor went with the jaguar out the larger doors, opened by the guards, and out into the large hallway. They walked side by side, the jaguar ignoring her. Studying the lithe body, she saw that it had a slight limp in one of the hind legs. Evidently it got too annoying for the cat, as it abruptly stopped and tried to pull something out of the gears, picking at it with large, needle-like teeth that made her tense.

When she made as if to help, it turned to her and let out a low, threatening growl which Eleanor backed away at. When it had made no progress, however, she tried again. This time it let her touch it, although watching with its single red eye as she felt around. She pulled out a jagged piece of rock and the jaguar gently nudged her with its head. “See,” she murmured gently, standing up and taking a step back from those menacing teeth, “much better.”

It was when they got to the flight of huge stairs that the jaguar bent, almost in a bow, and seemingly asked her to mount his back. Seeing her eye its spikes, the it let the protrusions relax and once again nudged her.

Eleanor relented, throwing a leg over its back and settling down. She leant forward, wrapped her arms around its neck and tucked her legs back and off the ground, as if riding a sportbike. Not a second had gone by and the cat launched itself over the edge, taking the enormous stairs three at a time down to the next level. She screamed the whole way at the unexpected dangerous speed, but noticed that the landings were not jarring at all. _Some tremendous shock absorbers he must have._

When they reached the next level, it did not slow even a modicum and continued with long, smooth strides down the hallway. By the time she had come to enjoy it and adapt to the rocking rhythm of its gait, it slowed and stopped in front of a single door. Soundwave was waiting for them and Eleanor dismounted it, giving the cat a pat.

The jaguar purred back and nudged her, Soundwave commenting, "I see that you have met Ravage. Come, fleshing, you will accompany me to the servants' quarters." He scooped her up and made his way out of the palace into the morning light.

* * *

 

Soundwave having given his permission, the jaguar and the human pet were given free reign around the exterior of the palace. Laserbeak also accompanied them, per the demands of Soundwave, and occupied himself in the air above them.

Suddenly Ravage stopped, sticking _his_ -Soundwave had informed her in their short conversation that Ravage was a he, _not_ an it - head high in the air and gesturing for her to dismount. Eleanor did, and the jaguar paced around acting as if he was smelling for something. Laserbeak continued to circle above them, keeping a watchful eye. Ravage came back to her and sniffed at her jeans pocket, tilting his head up at her curiously.

Realizing that that was the pocket she had tucked the bag into, she drew the package out and asked, "This?" By now, Laserbeak had landed on the ground and was watching her too. Both of them nodded vigorously, and she tore open the obtuse bag, revealing glowing pink pieces. _Odd,_ taking one out to look at it, _they look almost like that stuff Megatron drank yesterday, but these are solid._

She tossed one to each of them, Ravage leaping up and catching it in his jaws with a snap. Laserbeak was more eloquent in his approach, simply stretching his neck to pluck it out of the air. _I must remember to thank Susan later,_ Eleanor thought, as Ravage rubbed her leg with his head, being mindful of his spikes and purring. Laserbeak simply looked at her and flew up into the sky again. _What a grouch._

Eleanor simply strolled around the palace while Ravage and Laserbeak fought with each other. Noticing some human sized doors, she watched them with interest. Seeing one of them open she witnessed a slave dump some water out the door and shut it again. _I must find out if I can get there from my own room._

* * *

 

When Ravage returned her to the room in the late afternoon, the former President was thoroughly exhausted and completly out of treats. She had spent time with Soundwave on the ground floor as he was supervising the "house slaves" and observed a network of human passages that ran through the walls. On her ride back up with Ravage, she had located the nearest entrance to the maintenance tunnels and burned it into her memory for a future escape attempt.

Walking back into the berthroom, she heard sounds coming from the coffee table. Tiptoeing as stealthily as she could back up the staircase, she gasped in surprise at the human male cleaning her room. "James? Is it really you?"

He jumped and turned, a look of shock crossing his face when he saw her. "Elle?" She noticed the way his eyes roved for the briefest of moments over her and she shivered.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes the slightest amount, biting her lip at the nickname she had told him not to use. She was wary of him and what he had been planning to do had not left them in the best of places. Since she had ended the engagement they had seen each other sparingly and only under circumstances that had pushed them together. She had become experienced in being friendly with someone she did not like in the slightest.

She stayed where she was, reluctantly greeting him with a professional nod. He sighed but broke their silence, "There is much I must tell you, Elle," his countenance became dark. "First, my birthdate is July 4th, and second, Nation needs you. As soon as possible."

They sat on the made bed and her long-lost acquaintance went on, "Burns knows that you have a copy of the Constitution and Declaration respectively, and they need it. They also don't think it safe for you to remain here. There’s not much time before _he_ gets back, so we must hurry." _How do_ **_you_ ** _know about when he is getting back?_

Eleanor, knowing that he was talking about an escape attempt, dropped to the floor and pulled out her pack. Seeing that the documents were still there, as well as a few cans of food and extra clothing, she slung it over her shoulders and James nodded approvingly. She was loathe to go anywhere with him, but she hated the idea of staying more.

They ran down the steps and onto the floor where James pulled her towards his cleaning cart and instructed, “Get in the laundry bag.” She did and he pilled her dirty bedsheets and clothing on top of her, effectively burying herself.

They rushed out of the apartment and as the guards let James pass Eleanor hoped that, because they hadn't seen her leave, Grace and Susan would escape Megatron's wrath. She would feel awful if they returned only to find her gone and had to pay for her disappearance.

James pushed his cart through the passages, continuing through to the ground floor. Every minute felt like an hour and every passing of a drone prompted her to stop breathing and squeeze her eyes shut while her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. When he stopped, Eleanor got out and bid him goodbye. "There is a horse and rider in the trees, waiting to escort you. Godspeed," James said to her, tears pricking his eyes.

She sprinted out the door under evening light, her legs burning with exertion, and made it into the trees to see the escort promised her. "Madame President, hop on. We have a long gallop ahead of us to the drop point in Fairfax." She mounted the horse the camouflaged rider provided her, still breathing heavily from her mad dash, and they galloped away from the palace gleaming in the dying light.

* * *

 

They made it to Fairfax a few hours later, the horses steaming from their gallop under the moonlight. Making her way quickly into the basement of the destroyed City Hall, she was checked for bugs by a man and woman in black operative garb. Sending a questioning glance to her escort, he replied in a faintly familiar voice, "Standard security protocol, ma'am." Eleanor nodded and allowed them "go through the motions," not expecting them to find anything.

They hadn't, until they used a scanner on her. It started blaring when it passed over her neck, and the woman checked with hesitant fingers and gasped, seeing the small scar on the injection site. "A tracker, sir. She has to leave."

The man looked for himself and nodded sadly, his shoulders drooping under his cloak. "You must go." She was pushed back out, through the hall, and into the night. "Run," her escort told her, "get as far away as you can. Please understand, madame, that we cannot collect anything from you now. I will keep in touch." He melted back into the shadows with a slowness that spoke of his reluctance to leave her.

Eleanor understood, of course; she could jeopardize everything by sticking around. She turned and sprinted down the street through the moonlight, trying to ignore the disappointment in her heart and tears in her eyes. _A tracker?_

 _They will be on me at any moment,_ she thought, sobbing in realization even as she tried to run. 

* * *

 

A certain warlord had entered his apartments, looking forward to seeing little Eleanor asleep and saw concerned stylists yelling at each other in the main space. Roaring at them for an explanation, the brown-haired one told him, stuttering, that when they returned this afternoon from their other duties they had not seen her at all.

Seeing that they were telling the truth, he verified with Soundwave that she had been taken back to his quarters. He growled and left, shaking the floor in his wake. _Obstinate femme_ , he thought to himself, turning on his location systems, _this had better all be worth it._

* * *

Eleanor had made it into the downtown area, away from Nation's drop point, and was now walking through the streets. Her tears had continued to fall though she despised how weak she was.

"What do we have here?" She heard cackles behind her and she wheeled around to see a group of men. They were all huge and filthy and underneath their rags she could see muscles ripple. They were not unlike the gangs she had seen before, that she had sometimes had to kill before. These men were hardened by the Invasion and experienced from having to survive in a wilderness.

"It's been a long time since I've had a good bout, princess," the largest of them grinned, "surely you wouldn't begrudge us the pleasure?" They cackled and started to come after her, and Eleanor was once again sprinting. Her legs burned from the earlier dash away from Nation’s outpost and her lungs were on fire as she took in ragged gasps.

She hadn't made it a hundred yards when she was yanked back into a huge chest, arms wrapping around her. They pinned her to the asphalt, knocking out what little air her lungs had held. Their dirty hands tore at her clothing with desperation and eagerness, and she screamed for help though she thought that there was no one to hear.

“What’s this,” one of the men had found her diamond collar and was trying to tear it off, “ _pretty_ little thing?”

_You are going to get raped. You have no choice. Maybe he is nearby because you have a tracker._

Eleanor, now desperate to get help, screamed the last name that she would ever want to help her. She yelled the name of last resort through her tears and into the cold air, louder than she had ever spoken before, " **_MEGATRON_ **!"

Megatron had zoned in on her location and was relieved to see her relatively close to the palace. That relief fell away when he had flown over them, seeing his beauty held down on the ground, a group of filthy insects fighting over her and ripping at her clothing. He then realized what they were trying to do and saw red as he landed. She cried out his designation in terror and he roared in response, throwing her assailants into flights they could not survive. **_Mine_ ** _._

She jolted at the roar that came in response and felt an impact behind her that cracked the asphalt of the street. A shadow engulfed her, blocking the moon. Her attackers froze, staring in fear at something she could not see. Eleanor did, however, recognize the silver hands that threw away her attackers, sending them flying. She did recognize the hands that picked her up gently, holding her to a cold metal chest as she sobbed in relief and fear.

He picked up her crying form and held her against his chest. He was surprised when he felt her grab at him and pull herself closer, pressing her face into him. He cradled her, letting her sob into him as he decided to walk - rather than fly - back to his palace, unaware of the camouflaged man watching him from the shadows.


	11. The Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Eleanor had started to quiet a few minutes into the walk, but Megatron still saw a few tears silently running down her face.  _ They do that to show stress, sadness, or fear,  _ he reminded himself. He was glad that she was starting to calm a little after her close encounter, though. The poor thing. 

She was leaning against the large metal chest, still trying to regain control of her breath. Looking up into his crimson optics, which flashed concern and sympathy for an instant, she asked him in a whisper, "What are you going to do to me?"

He held her gaze and deeply intoned, "As punishment for your escape attempt? I have not yet decided." 

Eleanor nodded and slowly looked back down, finally gaining control of her ragged breathing and wiping away the tears with discreet swipes, allowing herself to be rocked gently by the titan’s strides. The cold of the night was starting to get to her shirtless form and goosebumps had risen on her arms and chest. Shivers started to make her way through her, and she finally noticed her breath forming dense clouds in the air. She tried to burrow deeper into his chest and curl up tighter, but it was futile.

Megatron, seeing her rubbing her arms and feeling her shudder, remembered that humans had a certain optimal temperature. She needed to stay warm, hence why so many blankets had been fetched for her tiny den. He cursed himself for not having thought to put any supplies in his subspace for her. He would do that upon his return. 

But for now, his own heat would have to do. He held her closer to his face on the upper part of his chassis, blowing his exhaust on her slightly in an attempt to warm her.

Eleanor felt herself rise to just below his chin, and he tilted his head to blow warm clouds of air over her. She tried to raise herself to get closer to the source of heat and away from the cold, losing her balance accidentally on his uneven palm and grabbing at his chin to steady herself. 

She froze, tensing her muscles and afraid that he would snarl in disgust at having an “animal” touch him. That’s what all humans were to him anyway, right? When nothing happened and heat continued to billow around her, she leaned back in cautiously. 

Megatron was vaguely surprised at her touch, but it quickly turned to amusement as she leaned toward him. He shifted his hand further upwards so that it was level with his chin and blew more over her. She gave an almost inaudible moan at it and curled up in the center of his palm, the sound making him heat up slightly.

Emboldened at the fact that she appeared comfortable and relaxed, and also since her back was turned towards him, he allowed his glossa to slide out over his denta and lick at her form, just barely grazing her. He had felt the need to soothe his future mate after her stressful encounter, and perhaps this kind of contact was something she wanted. 

Eleanor bolted upright and turned to him, shocked out of her stupor. "What was that?" Amused, he gave her a sly grin and licked at her once more, sliding his glossa over her bare stomach. She gasped at him and pulled her knees to her chest, allowing her jaw to fall open as she stuttered incoherently.

By now he had stopped under the light of the full moon and asked her, "Do you like it or not, pet?" She continued to gape at him, a confused and astonished look in her eyes. "I will take that as a yes," Megatron purred and lapped at her stomach, tasting her, "And my do you taste  _ delicious _ ." He had stopped seeing her as human the instant he felt his spark react to her photograph - to him, this was purely affection that he had given to Circuitsia a few times. 

Eleanor came to, seeing lust flicker in his optics, and finally found her voice to beg him "St-stop!"

"Stop  _ who _ dear?" The Emperor hummed deeply, allowing himself to call her by that name and passing his glossa over her chest and the collar that rested there.  _ If she doesn’t want it, she’s going to have to back down to the disguise of a pet.  _

_ She can act as a mate or a pet, not both.  _ Even though he would prefer that she be the former, if she was not ready she could only be the latter. His mechs would not approve of him engaging in pleasures with a human.

Eleanor growled, frustrated and scared of the desire in his eyes (whether real or imagined), and whined "Stop,  _ master _ , please!" How she hated that word and its effect on her pride; what it meant about her sovereignty. 

Or lack thereof. 

Megatron relented, chuckling and passing a digit over her hair, pleased that she did not flinch from his touch and that he had managed to be gentle with the fragile helm. He blew over her once more and lowered her to his chest. "Very well," he said, the vibration passing through her body. "We are almost home." Sure enough, the metal peaks of the palace stood above the treeline, gleaming in the moonlight.

* * *

 

_ She ran down the street from the thing chasing her, under the dark of a moonless night. She had been sprinting for forever, and her legs refused to move faster. A screech sounded from its throat, and she could hear it panting, but could not make out what it was. Just as it pounced on her and crushed the air out of her lungs, she managed to scream. _

"Eleanor." Something pulled her out of the nightmare and she opened her eyes to stare into crimson floating orbs for the third time that night since their return. She jumped, startled, and eyed the claws that had been stroking her back while she had been asleep on her belly. Was he going to kill her for disturbing him? 

"Sorry," she whispered, cringing from the sharp fingers that could easily come down and dive into her soft flesh.  _ Please.  _

"Come, pet. Bring a blanket." He gestured to her, and she reluctantly obeyed, taking the topmost blanket and sliding out of bed. She padded on bare feet over to him, goosebumps rising though she was warm in the provided nightclothes. What was he choosing to do with her? 

_ Is he going to kill me outside? Bury me in the blanket? _ Fear bit her heart and she had to fight to keep from shaking in fear, her breath hitching when claws curled around her.  He picked her up and carried her over to the massive table, where he held her close to his chest and laid down. 

Confused, she dared to look up at him. 

In the pitch dark of the room, she could see a faint red light coming between the cracks of his plating. She brought the blanket up over her body and rested on her side, as the remarkably gentle but insistent pushes from his digits told her to do.

Megatron, upon seeing her settle, moved his servo over her and said, "Sleep, pet." She tensed under his massive hand and waited with wide eyes, still watching him. “Relax,” he… crooned? as deadly, steel points lightly stroked her back. 

Not knowing why he was showing this kind of sympathy towards her, she eventually relaxed and fell into a deep sleep until morning, undisturbed by the nightmares that had plagued her prior.

* * *

 

Coming out of recharge, Megatron recalled the human on his chest and carefully moved her to the berth. She mumbled and shifted, but did not wake. The brown protein strands on her helm -  _ hair _ , he reminded himself - were mussed quite messily, and she was quite adorable in her recharge. Though he wished to stay and watch her sleep, he made his way as quietly as he could -  _ humans spook easily _ , Soundwave had told him - out of his suites and into the hallway. He went downstairs to Soundwave's quarters, where they would not be disturbed during his discussion.

Megatron's most trusted officer was already awake and stood to greet his leader upon his entrance.  _ "You may sit, Soundwave," _ he indicated the table and chairs in the smaller apartment,  _ "Do you have any idea how she was able to make it that far?"  _

Both of them sitting down, Soundwave replied,  _ "I cannot say how she made it that far, but I do have an idea of how she got out."  _

Placing a data pad on the smooth surface of the table, Soundwave displayed video obtained from his guards' memory banks. _ "You can see here that Ravage leaves her and she enters the apartment. Now, the only one seen leaving is this house slave, here. Afterwards, there is no activity until the human femmes arrive, and they find that she is already gone." _

_ "So locate this human slave. Have him brought in here." _ Megatron ordered impatiently. Soundwave commed one of the supervisors and relayed the order.

Finished, Soundwave asked cautiously,  _ "If I may ask, my liege, how were you planning on punishing her?"  _

Megatron raised an optic ridge, giving a calculating look at his communications officer, replying  _ "Why do you ask?" _ His voice was measured yet full of warning, and Soundwave knew to tread carefully.

_ "Well, I do not know what you plan on doing with her, but she is your sparkmate, yes?" _ Megatron dipped his helm, optics critical and Soundwave continued,  _ "She most likely has no memory of what transpired prior to her first death, and presumably must come to know you again. My humble suggestion, my lord, is that you do not crush humans in front of her. Respectfully, my liege, all that does is turn her against you." _

Megatron nodded once more, interested.  _ "Go on."  _ He had to wonder, however, as to why. Eleanor was not human at spark, for she cared a Cybertronian soul. She should not care about other humans or empathise with them; perhaps, the size similarity and his capabilities to crush her frightened her. His spark felt a brief pang - he hadn’t meant to scare her. 

_ "I would recommend isolating her from the rest of her race. The slaves outside of the palace especially, so that she is not reminded of her fellow humans. Additionally, court her in ways already familiar to her. I have heard that human males traditionally give the reproductive organs of plants to their mates, called 'roses' I believe. Also, shower her with gifts. Be gentle and give her an illusion of mercy."  _ Megatron narrowed his optics at Soundwave’s assumption that his femme was a human and desired to be treated with human ideals.  _ Maybe _ , he thought,  _ she identifies with their culture, since she had been raised in it and it might have imprinted on her soul.  _

The mechs were interrupted with a ping from the door.  _ "Enter," _ Megatron ordered, and the house slave was brought in and discarded on the table. The human had his jaw clenched and stared upwards at the tyrant with a challenge written in his eyes.  _ "Bring in my pet as well," _ Megatron ordered the guard, not taking his optics from the slave.

* * *

 

Eleanor awoke on the massive "berth" and had made her way down the ladder attached to one of the sides of the platform. Susan and Grace rushed to dress her, and she barely had time to eat before being pushed out the door in another matching jeweled bikini and into the hands of a waiting guard. She was carried downstairs and they stopped in front of the same door she had yesterday with Ravage. An all-too familiar gravelly voice ordered something in their tongue and the door slid open.

She was placed gently on the table and she saw James waiting. Carefully hiding any sign of recognition, she prayed  _ Good God, please don't let this monster hurt another in front of me _ . Soundwave sat off to the side, silent, and Megatron towered above them, arms crossed across his massive chest, staring down at them.

When the guard had left, the Emperor intoned quietly, "Now  _ whose _ idea was it?" 

Eleanor could feel the absolute rage coming off of him in waves, and took a step backwards on heeled feet, lowering her head. "It was mine," they said in unison.  _ Oh no.  _

The silver giant raised an eyebrow, growling even lower, "whose idea was it  _ really _ ?"

Cutting off James, Eleanor stuttered out, "He did not know of my presence in the cart, master." She had to keep herself from spitting the title, knowing that he could easily retaliate by crushing her former love interest. "He was cleaning my room when Ravage took me home, and I saw an opportunity and hid myself. He is innocent." She prayed that he would buy the lie and spare James, the man she had almost married, even if he had been a jerk to her in her past. 

Megatron watched her confess, a part of his processor dedicated to eyeing the body scantily clad in the diamond-covered armor -  _ clothing _ \- and the other part listening to her words. He knew that she was lying, that her body language betrayed her, but remembered Soundwave's words: “ _ Give her an illusion of mercy. _ " 

“Very well. Guard! Take this slave back to his quarters." 

The black robot entered and collected James, who left her with a mixed look of sadness and gratitude in his eyes. She sent him a quick reassuring glance that she hoped Megatron did not see before the door clicked shut again.   
Megatron did observe the exchange between them and his optics narrowed in suspicion.  _ Who  _ **_is_ ** _ that human to her?  _ He made a mental note to reread Soundwave's report on her past later.

"What are you going to do to me?" Eleanor asked, almost in a whisper. 

Seeing an encouraging look from Soundwave, Megatron turned his optics to her and growled, "I think that what almost happened as a consequence of your actions was punishment enough, yes? Regardless, I will decrease the size of your meals."

Eleanor was shocked that she was getting off that easily; he could have effortlessly crushed a slave in front of her again, but didn't. Megatron looked at Soundwave and spoke in Cybertronian,  _ "I wish for you to work on a project with Scalpel and Shockwave regarding my sparkmate." _ Soundwave nodded, listening, as the Emperor laid out his plans for Eleanor.

* * *

 

"I was about to interfere, but he did for me. He was so gentle with her, and so furious with her attackers. I do not know what to think of it, except that he might have plans for her that we do not know about." The cloaked man reported to Burns, who sat at a desk, his hand propping up his chin in thought. 

Burns replied cautiously, "We need to find a way to speak to her. What about James Freund? What happened to him?"

"My informants have said that he was unpunished and that Eleanor took the blame for the escape." 

"Get in contact with him," Burns said, looking at the map of the world mounted to the wall. It was dotted with white pushpins here and there across the Earth. "We need her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is the cloaked man, I wonder?
> 
> I like comments. :3


	12. The Documents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I also don't own Netflix or Star Trek.

Megatron, having finished discussing with Soundwave, grabbed Eleanor and stood from the table. As he was about to leave, Soundwave said  _ "Wait, my liege!" _

The Emperor and Ruler of the Earth turned, former President in servo, and raised an optic ridge at the borderline insubordinate outburst. Soundwave continued in Cybertronian,  _ "According to my research, humans in cases of kidnap often start to have feelings and trust for their captors. It is commonly referred to as Stockholm Syndrome, my liege.” _

Megatron nodded, pensive, and ordered,  _ "Ravage, accompany me." _ He had seen how well his pet and the cat had gotten along in the video, and - although he felt a twinge of jealousy at their friendship - she needed some form of diversion while he was in meetings today (and also someone to keep a close optic on her).

The jaguar leapt up from his place by Soundwave's pedes, excitedly trotting out after the warlord.

* * *

 

When they had reached the royal suites, he placed his sparkmate on the floor of the berthroom and ordered Ravage to watch her. He then retreated back into the main space, preparing for the meetings regarding the progress of the mines. Megatron was loathe to bring Starscream into his quarters, but Command did not yet have a furnished conference room. It was intended, after all, to be temporarily placed in his palace. In a short while it would have it’s own separate building in the city outside of his estate. For the present, his own meeting area would have to do. 

Ravage looked at her and cocked his head, unsure of what to do.

Eleanor heard the clanks of metal on the floor and alien greetings, signs that others were arriving, and told him, "Come on. We can see what that screen in my room does." They walked up the staircase, reaching her cleaned bedroom. Upon inspection of the frame of the impossibly slim, silver screen, she saw a single button. Pressing it curiously, a familiar display faded onto the smooth metal surface. 

"How?..." she started, lost for words at how such a thing had been preserved and that they had offered it for her.

She tried to navigate the black and red screen, first tapping to see if it was a touch screen. When nothing happened she growled to herself, "I have a plethora of things to watch, but no way to select it."  _ Should I even be watching these things? _

_ The rest of my people are in slavery, toiling under the sun on empty stomachs, but you want to watch entertainment? _

_ You’re doing what you can,  _ the other half argued,  _ there’s no use in continuing to beat yourself up.  _

When she brought her hand up quickly to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, the screen scrolled downwards slightly. 

Seeing the movement, she experimented a few times with different hand gestures, finally locating a TV show. She thrust forward with her hand - feeling like a jedi - and selected it. Upon turning around she saw Ravage make to leap onto the bed, wriggling his hindquarters as if about to pounce, and she shouted "No!" He cocked his head at her, confused.

"We'll stay down here," she said, knowing that he could easily rip the sheets and leave grease stains on the bed. There was no use in making more work, and possibly trouble, for the humans enslaved in this palace. She pulled down a blanket and a pillow and sat on the floor, adjusting the items to get comfortable. Eleanor felt Ravage curl around her back, letting her lean against him as he set his tail protectively across her lap.

She smiled at him and stroked his helm, making him purr while his optic dimmed. She thrust her hand again, playing the episode of  _ Star Trek. How ironic, watching them run around in space. When they made this, we still thought we were alone; I wish we still had that innocence.  _

Looking at the purring cat lying around her, she stroked its head and mused,  _ At least not all of them are cruel monsters. I suppose they have an ability to be kind, just like everyone else.  _ That made her think of the incident the night before, and she reflected,  _ Even  _ **_he_ ** _ can I have his moments, I guess.  _

_ But that scene in the woods confuses me. Why on  _ **_Earth_ ** _ would you  _ **_lick_ ** _ your pet, and then say that they taste delicious?  _

_ Then again, they are aliens; maybe he didn't know what he was implying.  _

Another voice countered,  _ Maybe he knew all too well what he was doing.  _ She shivered at the thought, and returned her attention to the show in front of her. Ravage had his head tilted at the screen and she chuckled softly, stroking his head.

* * *

 

They were interrupted a few hours later when Grace came up the stairs and screamed, Eleanor jumping at the sound. "What is  **that** ?" Grace shouted and pointed, brown eyes going wide. Ravage stood up, his tail rising and the end starting to glow. He stepped in front of her protectively, baring his teeth and snarling at the stylist. 

"This is Ravage. Ravage, stop it." He looked at her with his single red orb and relented, closing his maw and dropping onto his haunches, but leaving his tail loosely curled around her lower legs.

Eleanor stood, patting his head between the two ear-like spikes, and asked "What is it that you need, Grace?" "The master wishes for you to come out." Nodding, Eleanor walked over to the screen and turned it off. Ravage followed, giving Grace a little snarl. She jumped back and he was once again reprimanded, but Eleanor swore that she heard a tiny giggle from the blonde. 

Stepping out through the small door and into the main space, Eleanor was greeted by the stares of a half a dozen pairs of red optics, including those of her captor. The silence was cut by the F-22 who had captured her, praising, "So  _ exquisite _ , my lord!" 

Stepping over to her and shaking the floor a little, he bent and looked at her closer, as if she was a cute dog. "So loyal and obedient to your demands!" He tried to pass a digit through her hair, but she jerked back and lost her balance on the tall heels, landing on the cold marble and bruising her tailbone.

The robots laughed at her, all except for one seated in the middle. He ground out, "Stop with your aft-kissing remarks, Starscream! And  **do not** touch what  **is not** yours." The mechanical laughter was cut off and the chastised Starscream walked back to the sectional, taking his seat. He spoke to her now, taking a more forgiving tone, and said, "Come over here, pet." She bowed her head and obeyed, walking under the coffee table and stopping between his enormous pedes. They continued their discussion, switching from English to alien for a reason Eleanor did not know. She was still red from the remarks that were obviously for her  _ benefit _ . 

Megatron abruptly stood after several minutes, saying that he would retrieve the reports of some sort from his private office. Eleanor just barely avoided getting crushed, running under the sectional to escape his huge feet. 

He left the room and Eleanor remained in place - feeling more secure there - stroking Ravage, who had followed her all the way from the berthroom. Starscream took the opportunity to growl to the seated robots, "Have you thought over my offer?" She froze, listening. 

One of them answered, "I have, and your claims make sense. He does seem to have softened for the femme." 

"There will be a meeting after dusk on the third floor in the storage room." 

She heard the booming footsteps of Megatron, and all discussion ceased. She watched him walk back to his place, the floor shaking, and take a seat, making the metal groan above her. It was back to normal and after an hour the Decepticons stood, (presumably) saluted and praised, "All hail Megatron!" before leaving.

After she heard the bang of the doors being shut, she heard Megatron say "You can come out, Eleanor. I have something to discuss with you." 

She slowly made her way into the light, looking up at him. He bore no expression on his silver face, which worried her, as he picked her up and placed her on the table. Ravage made the tremendous leap up to the top to stand next to her, evidently very attached. The Emperor leaned forward over her, looking down at her with crimson optics. To her horror, he held two familiar documents, pinched between two metal fingers, in the air in front of her. He growled quietly, gravelly voice sending shivers down her spine, "Now  **what** , exactly, are  **these** ?"

She wrung her hands nervously and stared down at her feet. Megatron, angered, slammed his empty fist down onto the surface of the table, yelling "ANSWER, FLESHLING!" The force of the hit made a dent in the table and threw her off her feet. 

To make matters worse, Ravage - who was unaffected by the blow - came to stand between her and Megatron, hissing at him and baring his teeth. If Megatron was angry before, he was livid now. He roared at Ravage, his fangs gleaming and the sound deafening her, and slapped him away.

The panther flew into the backrest of the sectional and lay still. There was a deep dent where he had impacted the metal, and she saw pink fluid start to leak from his broken form. She started to give out a cry, but a large metal hand cut her off and pinned her.

He brought himself closer to where she could feel the warm air billow over her, red optics gleaming with a sinister light. "Once again,  **what** are  _ these _ ?" 

Tears were running down her face now and she looked at Ravage, who still hadn't moved, before saying weakly, "The documents of my homeland." 

He raised a metal eyebrow at her, pressing further, " _ Really _ ? And  _ why  _ were these in the pack you had when I found you yesterday?"

"They were in there when you first caught me." 

"Then how did you get this back?"

"Does that matter?" She answered testily in her attempt to protect her stylists. She felt like a rubber band that was about to snap; there were only so many people she could protect from this  _ monster. _

He picked her up in a fist and started to squeeze slowly, saying "Don't test me,  _ pet _ .  _ Why _ did you have those documents in the first place?" He was crushing the air out of her lungs and she started to push at his fingers, suffocating and seeing white spots in her vision.

Realizing that he was killing her, he let her fall a few feet to the metal in self-appalling shock. She gasped in air, her little chassis heaving, and Megatron felt his spark twinge.  _ Slag. You just destroyed what little trust she  _ **_might_ ** _ have had in you. _

She stood, raising her chin and looking at him. "Because I took an oath that I would, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend it." 

Megatron lowered the documents, placing them on the table and watching her. "Because I solemnly swore that I would faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and that I would, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." She finished with her oath, tears streaming down her face, chest heaving as she looked up at him. Her resolve had crumbled as she said those words, and she slowly collapsed again to her knees before him and sobbed into her hands. 

"We had thought for forever that we were alone in the universe. All of that changed in a single day. Do you know what it is like, seeing your formerly formidable cities crumble like they were made of sand?"

She had regained control of her breath but she still wept as she said, "Do you know what it is like to have  _ leaders of nearly 200 different countries _ looking to  _ you _ for answers? Asking you,  _ imploring _ in fear 'What do we do, Sherman?' Knowing that you have no answer, and that you have to tell them that? That  _ 7 billion people _ are watching you for ultimate leadership, for reassurance that everything is going to be okay, that their lives would continue normally, and you have to tell them that  _ you are not enough _ ." She had curled in on herself now, and continued quietly, 

"That  _ all the military in the world _ could  _ never _ defeat the force conquering their countries and destroying their homes, and they have to save themselves. Then after that is all finished, you get to  _ watch _ as all the leaders of the world, some of them close friends, are executed in gruesome ways in front of your  _ very own eyes _ . You get to see your race  _ enslaved _ , and yet you are still free. You get to see all of your bodyguards lay down their lives for you so that you may  _ live _ , but you are secretly hoping that when they find you you can join them in  _ death _ .

"Then, when they do catch you, you are told that you will be a  _ pet _ , that you will be kept alive by the very  _ monster _ that slaughtered  _ every single one _ of your friends and enslaved your people." Megatron wore an expression of shock throughout this whole tirade, not interrupting her once. His optics softened as she went on, while flinching at how she snarled the word  _ monster _ .  _ What immense pressure she carries on those tiny shoulders.  _

_ Do not cry, my mate. I will remove it - no longer do you have to live in a world in which you do not belong.  _

But she was not finished. Her grey eyes looked up at him, tinged red from crying and full of hate, anger, fear, and sadness. "We were no match for you, and fell so  _ quickly _ to you." She spoke quietly now, sad and submissive, "So quickly that maybe you are justified in making us your  _ slaves _ , making us  _ grovel _ at your feet. Justified in calling us  _ insects _ and yourselves  _ gods _ ." He felt his spark shatter with her words as she turned away, and he reached towards her.  _ Precious, if only you understood who you truly are.  _

Eleanor saw the approaching claws, and had flashbacks of them ripping apart her friends, skinning them alive, severing limbs, crushing them to pulp. She remembered them throwing Ravage, her only friend among these beasts, away like a rag doll. She bared her teeth at him in a fit of bravery, snarling and swatting at his talons, "Leave me  **ALONE** !"

He plucked her up in his claws anyway, and Eleanor saw in his optics true concern.  _ Yeah right. As if.  _ Megatron held her against his chest, letting her wet his armor with her tears as he rocked her. He held her until she had cried herself into a deep sleep, the setting sun bathing the room in orange. 

He looked over to Ravage, who had recovered from stasis and was watching him. "Leave," he ordered, retiring to his berthroom and setting the female onto her bed. As an afterthought, he fetched the papers and laid them on her vanity, carefully avoiding tearing them. Megatron went into his office, knowing that it would be a good idea to re-read her files and the report sent to him by Soundwave.

Once there, he sat in the large chair and placed his helm in his servos.  _ You really screwed up now,  _ a small voice in his head went on.  _ You almost kill her, you almost kill her friend, and now she has let you know just how much she  _ **_hates_ ** _ you. A perfect start to a wonderful bonding! _

Growling, he commed Soundwave,  _ "I want that project completed and ready by the end of the cold season. Use as many test subjects as you need." _ Soundwave replied in the affirmative, and he was left looking at her files.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Uhhhh...writing this last bit was depressing. I'm also not quite sure how Megatron will recover from this one, he really screwed up.
> 
> I have been asked if any of the old characters from the movies will show up. I *might* include Simmons, but this AU is one where the Autobots never showed up. Hence, Sam never got the Cybertronian car and the road was clear for the Decepticons to conquer Earth.


	13. The Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired of writing a disclaimer for every chapter, so please just look at the Prologue (or every chapter before this one) for it. I also don't own Netflix or Star Trek.

Eleanor awoke from the nightmare, a scream ripping through her throat. She didn’t know why she was so surprised anymore - now, nightmares were as common for her as graffiti in a ghetto. The sky held a dying sun, the light fading as the darkness of dusk took its place.  _ Dusk. Damn.  _ She remembered Starscream's words, potentially treasonous.  _ Could he be planning a mutiny?  _ If he was, she had a choice to make, and fast.

_ On one hand, Megatron is a cruel and barbaric leader that conquered your planet, enslaved your people and killed your friends.  _ The quietest of voices interrupted her, saying  _ He also saved you from being raped at the hands of your people, too.  _

Shaking her head at the thought, she pondered,  _ On the other hand, at least I know what to expect from him. Starscream I know nothing about, and from the discussion he doesn't sound fond of humans at all, maybe not even as slaves. _

Making her choice, she ran down the steps, blowing off a worried Susan and a confused Grace, and out into the main space. Seeing that it was empty and that the light was quickly fading, she knew that she really had only one place to try. Running up to the door, she knocked before she could second-guess her intentions.

Megatron heard the tiny, yet urgent, knock upon the metal of his office door. Perplexed, he stood and went to press the button to open the door, seeing his pet standing there. She was flushed and worried, her face slightly red and her chest heaving. 

Eleanor looked up at him, seeing a carefully guarded expression there. "What is it?" he asked cautiously, sounding tired. 

"There is something I need to tell you." She walked between his pedes, which were easily as long as she was tall, and into the office space beyond.

Megatron let the door slide closed, carefully watching where he placed his pedes, lest he crush her. She waltzed up to the enormous desk and waited, urging him. He scooped her up and set her on the desk surface, taking his seat and watching her.

Eleanor told him the whole story of what had transpired during the meeting, ending with her suspicions of mutiny, Megatron watching her the whole while with a disturbingly still expression. He raised a ridge at her theory of insurrection and asked, "Why tell me this, pet, if you  _ hate _ me so?"

"I never said that I hated you..." She said weakly, not liking how the focused had shifted. Of course she hated him but the dangerous undertone was sending chills up her spine and seizing her heart. She was taken off guard by his claim, stepping backwards to get away from his towering form, which was starting to lean over her. 

He placed his huge arms on either side of her and crimson optics pinned her beneath their gaze. "Is that not what you said when you went on your little rant?" He was sneering at her now, huge metal teeth gleaming maliciously, moving his arms closer to her.

"I implied that I hate you for the conquering of my race, but is that such an abnormal hate?"

"That will soon change." 

She looked up at him from her place on his desk, tilting her head in confusion at the meaning of his words. Smirking, the Emperor relented, moving his arms from her sides and sitting back. "Well, are you going to do anything about Starscream?" She dared to ask, trying to keep herself as small as possible, even though she was trying to stand straight.

"He has always been like this, Eleanor. He has always been treacherous, dangerous to have as a second-in-command, but never had he taken it this far." He mused, watching her and seeing that her eyes were still red from her crying earlier. The tyrant had observed that occurrence plenty of times. 

"Then why have him as a second-in-command? Why not Soundwave instead?"

He brushed her off brusquely, "That is a complicated matter that you need not worry yourself with. Regardless, I have a plan."

* * *

 

Eleanor peered from her place on a high shelf in the storage room, watching the door for any entering robots. Megatron had placed her there with instructions that she tell him everything she heard, and that if she was ever in trouble, all she had to do was scream.  _ Why did I tell him again? An hour ago you were lecturing him about the Invasion, and now you are here  _ **_helping_ ** _ him? _

Megatron, in the empty room adjacent to the one his pet was in, was telling Soundwave what had happened that afternoon. He was in a rare position of humility as he asked the Mercedes for advice.  _ "Well, my liege, she does sound like she hates you..." _ Megatron gave a sigh at this,  _ "But I would recommend listening to her worries and fears. You might learn her better that way than any report that could ever be written. Have you thought of a gift, my Lord?"  _

_ "I read in your report that she does play a human instrument known as a piano..." _ The tyrant answered, deep in thought,  _ "Actually, Soundwave, send out drones to find one for her. Tell them that it must be in perfect condition, and it is to be left with you."  _ He was impossibly curious to see what his newfound Circuitsia could do. 

In his quarters, Soundwave gave a small smile, thinking that there might be hope this time around.  _ "Soundwave," _ Megatron added,  _ "Tell them to search for some of those ‘roses’ as well." _

Eleanor was pulled out of her musings as the panel slid open, admitting Starscream and several other robots she recognized from the meeting. She hid behind a large metal container, watching and listening carefully through the small translator in her ear.

More Decepticons arrived until the rather large space was packed with them. After several minutes of small talk, Starscream raised his voice and called for silence.  _ "Fellow Decepticons, you have been invited here today because you share the doubt that our supreme leader is no longer fit to lead." _

There were sounds of agreement, and the F-22 continued,  _ "He has taken a fleshbag as a pet, and never has he touched her, given her a scratch, anything to show his superiority. I tell you, those wounds on her face several Earth days ago were not real, but painted on! He ordered that Thundercracker and I be gentle with her, and that any scratch inflicted upon her would result in immediate termination." _

Eleanor started in the shadows; she had not known that gentleness was an order, that they had been careful on  _ penalty of death _ . She continued listening, watching Starscream gesture angrily.  _ "Even when she degraded and dirtied him with her spit, all he did was roar. Not. One. Scratch. Even when she escaped yesterday," _ there were murmurs in the crowd at that,  _ "he did nothing to her. Not even a single  _ **lash** _." _

_ "That insect was the last leader to be squished, the last one to confirm the inferior status of the  _ **_human race_ ** _ ," _ Eleanor flinched at those words,  _ "and he has done nothing to her but place a collar on her. Are we Autobots?" _ The crowd roared negatively at that and there were several laughs. 

_ "Has Megatron become Optimus Prime?" _

This, however, inspired chants of affirmation. She covered her ears at the deafening, encompassing sound.  _ "Go out, now, and spread the word that Megatron is no longer a Decepticon and is no longer worthy of our trust!" _ The robots pumped their fists in the air and Eleanor retreated further into the shadows nervously. In her movement, however, she knocked over a spare part. It began to roll off of the shelf and, before she could grab it, hit one of the robots on the head.  _ Damn it. _

He looked up at her, red optics shining in disgust and then dark amusement that sent a chill through her.  _ "Hey Starscream!" _ The chants quieted and the robot grabbed her, piercing her sides lightly with sharp claws and making her cry out. 

"What do we have here?" Starscream chuckled in cold English, moving from his place in the center towards her. He took her roughly, deepening the claw marks, and held her aloft. "It's Megatron's squishy!" The mass laughed at her, many of them giving cruel grins.

Starscream bared his own teeth at her in a sneer, holding her in front of his face, "Where is he to protect you now, hmmm? I could just squeeze and pop you like a grape if I wished," he said, starting to tighten his fist ever so slowly, "and  _ nothing _ would happen." The robots laughed once more, their mockery bouncing off the walls of the filled space. 

This time, though, she smiled at him despite the pain. Starscream was surprised at this, letting it show on his face.

She was loathe to cry out his name again in terror. Nonetheless, she figured as soon as that robot had discovered her, that she might as well have a little fun because she was going to end up screaming for him at some point anyway.  _ Might as well get this over with and have a little fun while I'm at it,  _ she thought as her own cackle filled the silence, hurting her sides as she twisted the scratches. Looking him straight in the optic, she grinned devilishly and challenged "I  **dare** you."

Starscream was seething, shouting to the amassed Cybertronians while returning her stare, "Do you see this? This  **Megatron** would put up with. But I," he got closer to her now, "am not  **Megatron** ." He clenched his fist tighter, cutting off her air supply. Her vision swam and her ribcage was bending, threatening to snap

The mechs laughed, and Eleanor with her last bit of air let out a shrill scream, " **MEGATRON** !"

As if on cue, the door was blown in and a familiar, towering giant filled the hole it left behind. Eleanor had never been so pleased to see him - even if she did hate him - and burned the look on Starscream's face into her memory. "Guards," the gravelly voice roared, "seize them!" The black Decepticons made their way through the crowd, while the tyrant stalked towards a still-shocked Starscream.

He grabbed the arm holding her and cleanly snapped it off, Starscream howling in pain and Eleanor gaping at the upfront display of force and strength. He pried her loose and Eleanor thought she heard a happy purr as held her close to his familiar chest plates.  _ I hope I made the right choice,  _ she reflected, watching Megatron order that they be taken to the brig.

He lifted her to his face once the room was empty, giving her a smile. She gave a little smile back out of reflex, but she was also wincing from the pain in her sides. His countenance immediately changed to worry, "What is wrong, Eleanor?" She moved her hands and heard his angry growl as he saw the trickles of blood running from the holes in her sides, purple shapes forming on her belly. He pushed her against his chassis once more, this time cupping the other servo over her and rushing to the medbay.

* * *

 

Scalpel was waiting and she was quickly set down on a berth. However, Megatron did not pin her this time and stood back, watching. Scalpel looked over her sides, nodding knowingly before snapping his fingers. One of the creatures from before brought him a roll of cloth, which he took and placed on the table. He applied a salve to her sides, smoothing it gently with the side of his blade. "What is that?" she asked, not trusting him in the slightest and wanting to test him on his knowledge. 

"It is to fight off ze bacteria, human," Doctor replied readily, not missing a beat or even looking at her. She allowed him to continue, and instead watched Megatron out of the corner of her eye.

He was standing sentinel over her, oblivious to her gaze, a worried and angry look over his face.  _ I wonder... _ she thought, and brought her head around to look at him completely. As she suspected, the expression vanished instantly, replaced by a much more moderate one. She chuckled lowly to herself, turning her attention back to Scalpel, who was now trying to wrap the cloth around her and was struggling due to his small size and anatomy. 

Before Eleanor could try to take it, the Doctor called out, "Megatron, take zese and vrap zem around her ztomach." He accepted the roll, which looked ridiculous in his large hand, and did as he was asked. Eleanor was surprised at how precise he was, wrapping them cleanly around her abdomen, pulling them taut carefully. It was almost tender, but Eleanor knew better than to kid herself.

* * *

 

Returning to the apartment, Megatron set her atop the large dining table and opened the large metal box again, taking a canister of pink liquid and a box for her. He sat down in front of her, handing her the box and opening the can. As he raised it to his lips, Eleanor asked, "What is that? Is it like gasoline?"

Megatron gave a low chuckle at the reference, "It is referred to as Energon, dear. And I suppose you could say it is like that." He took a long swing from the can and Eleanor watched, transfixed as it slid down his massive gullet. He noticed her stare and gulped it down faster, sighing as he finished and crushing the can. She looked away quickly and opened her own box, which contained a small salad for her. This time though, a small fork was provided. 

Pouring the dressing over the leaves and checking that the chicken was actually chicken - she didn’t want to take chances - she took her own small bite. She closed her eyes at the taste of the Caesar salad, making believe for one instant that she was back before the Invasion. She had always liked these salads.

Megatron watched with keen interest as she shuttered her organic optics - eyes - and consumed her green, leafy fuel. He had followed Soundwave’s advice and made sure that no human meat was in any of her meals, but still smirked as she gobbled up the white animal flesh. It was strange to him, but if it was what she preferred...

She opened her eyes again to see Megatron watching her, an unreadable gleam in his optics. In order to lift the oppressive and awkward silence, Eleanor asked "Where is Ravage?" 

"He is with Soundwave, healing." He lowered his optics, staring at the crushed can, trying to hide the strange feeling of guilt. 

She swallowed, though no food was in her mouth, "I was wondering if you had more of those solid pink pieces. He really liked them." 

"Energon treats? I might." She finished her salad quickly, shovelling it in in an effort to ignore the itch of a gaze upon her. Once done, she placed her fork neatly inside the box and clicked it shut, swiping her lips once to clean them of the dressing. Megatron carefully hid his smirk at the sight of the strange, pink glossa as it cleaned those squishy lip components of the same color. He sobered upon glimpsing a deep, ugly purple peeking out from under her bandage. Marks, no doubt, from Starscream’s servo. 

He was just about to comm Soundwave when he remembered the translator in her ear. "I'll have that back, pet." She reluctantly removed the piece, placing it into his palm. 

He proceeded, _ "Have you informed Shockwave of the project?" _

There was a pause, before it was muttered back  _ "Yes, my liege." _

_ "And what of the piano?"  _

_ "They are still looking, Megatron. They should have one by tomorrow."  _

_ "Excellent." _

Megatron plucked up a very tired Eleanor and went into the berthroom. "Have you tried the screen?" he asked absently, placing her onto the bed. Soundwave had suggested it, and he had noted its prevalence in popularity on the humans’ internet. 

"Yes, actually." She turned to look at him, quietly grabbing one of his claws, "Thank you." She was curious now and asked, "Would you like to watch something with me?" He had imposed another awkward silence, and it seemed the only thing she could say. 

He jolted a little when she touched him voluntarily and thanked him, but he was unsure of what to think of her offer. He truly couldn't care less about human entertainment, but considering Soundwave's advice to spend time with her, he agreed.

Eleanor had extended the invitation expecting him to decline. When he accepted, however, her eyebrows shot up. With his size, how would this work? "Uh, I don't know how-" she was cut off when she was plucked up in his claws. 

Megatron promptly took a blanket and pillow from her berth and headed for his own, sitting down and leaning against the wall. 

He placed her gingerly on his shoulder plates, finding that he liked the feeling of having her warm and soft body there, and handed her the coverings. He picked up the datapad on the adjoining table, reprogramming it for its new purpose before pulling up the screen.

"Which one?" he asked her, completely new to the concept of human entertainment.

Eleanor decided that Star Trek might be too ironic and make the situation even more awkward, instead opting for one better suited for the tyrant. "That one, right there!" She pointed, and Megatron selected it.

The first few minutes the silver giant complained rather loudly that it was simply a group of humans playing a board game, but Eleanor bravely shushed him and told him to wait. Wait he did, and the scene with the black figure on the road made the human on his shoulder jump and grab at the side of his face plates.

"Sorry, that part gets me every time," she said, letting go as if burned while averting her eyes.  _ As if this wasn’t weird enough already. Good going.  _

He chuckled at her, thinking that he might like this "TV show" if it had  _ that _ effect on her. The human pet and the silver tyrant sat together, ignorant to the faces of Susan and Grace watching them. They shared a glance and returned to write their reports to Nation, knowing that this was most definitely of interest to them.


	14. The Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer in the Prologue. I don't own The Hunger Games or Stranger Things.

Blinking slowly and rubbing her eyes, Eleanor awoke on a huge metal shoulder. She yawned quietly, noticing that Megatron was still sleeping - or whatever giant robots did. She took the chance to study the plates that made up his face, thinking, _he still looks so_ **scary** _when he recharges. Maybe it's those spikes on his head._

Moving a little closer, careful not to wake him, she traced the places where the metal met, and even the few deliberate engravings there. She even ran her fingers over the center spike in his forehead, feeling the intricate designs. 

Megatron had been resting his optics, cherishing the feeling of her sleeping with him, when he felt her stir. Curious, he stayed still and was sure not to give any indication that he was online. He heard her take a deep breath, one so quiet and small that he might have missed it, before she slid across his shoulder plates and closer to his helm. The Emperor was careful to stay still, wondering what she was doing. He noticed her stroke him, mindful of the sounds he was making and managed to keep from leaning into the touch of his mate. 

He lost control of himself, however, when her little, soft fingers ran over the central protrusion on his helm. His vocalizer - without his permission - let out a deep, rumbling purr at her touch.  _ Maybe wooing her will not be so difficult.  _

Eleanor, suddenly hearing and  _ feeling _ what sounded like a growl, jerked away and almost fell down his enormous metal body in her shock. "Sorry," she said quietly, looking away from the red optics.

Megatron decided to play along with her impression, not saying a word as he plucked her up and stood from his berth. He carried her back to her bedroom and told her to clean herself up, producing a green, jade-studded lingerie set from Lord-knows-where and handing it to her. "Just how many of these do you have?" she asked incredulously.

He gave a dark chuckle and rumbled "Enough." He gave her a smirk and left, footsteps shaking her room slightly.

She shook her head and went downstairs to Susan and Grace, who were both already awake and discussing in hushed, hasty tones. The stopped when they saw her and got up, taking her onto the floor and into the "washrack." She thought she heard running water beyond the other door, but had no time to dwell on it as she went into her own bathroom.

Susan started the bath and Eleanor stripped out of yesterday's clothing, placing it into the wicker basket. Grace set about grabbing the necessary bottles from the large shelf, which held a plethora of them.

As soon as the bath was ready she allowed herself to sink into it, immersing her head underneath it and wetting her hair. Grace glanced at Susan, who nodded and poured shampoo on Eleanor's head as she emerged again. "We have something to ask you dear." Eleanor looked up at Susan, who questioned "When is your birthdate?"

"The 30th of February," Eleanor answered.  _ If that's what they actually meant. _

Grace answered now, giving her a cloth. "Ours is the 4th of July, madame."

"So what is it, now that we have gotten over with the formalities?" Eleanor was worried, hoping it wasn't another escape attempt. She wasn't sure she could handle another one of those.  _ Or if Megatron will. _

"Nation has given us a report that we were told to show you." They each removed a paper from their light-blue tunics, and Eleanor dried off her hands on the cloth before taking them. "They alternate words, dear, so that if one of us was caught the message wouldn't make sense. It's also in pig latin, so take your time. That was the code that was agreed upon."

Eleanor read over it, eyes widening in horror as she progressed. It was not even a page altogether,  but contained so much.

_ Madame President, _

_ We have taken our inspiration from the Hunger Games, as you saw in the broadcast, thinking it safe to use fictional characters as codes. Additionally, it will confuse the robots that preside over us. As the man you know as Burns has informed us, you refused to lead Nation thinking that you would breach security if caught. We have discussed and debated, and found that we need a leader on the inside, someone close to their leader. You, madame President, are the Mockingjay. _

_ We have various spies watching you, so that you may give your orders at any time. Write them on anything, but it must be in pig latin. If you are caught, all is lost. Stations have been set up on every continent, and we are waiting for you to lead us. Our ability to broadcast our own messages is limited to when he broadcasts his. You will receive weekly updates from us. _

_ Megatron has set up slave camps all over the globe, mining our oil and metals. They are also forced to make their fuel, Energon, in vast factories, all while on low rations. Numbers among the adults are dropping fast, and we must act soon before all humanity remembers is slavery. _

_ The Council of Nation, District 13 _

_ May the odds be ever in your favor. _

Eleanor looked up from the papers, deep in thought. It was almost comical how they were using dystopian fiction in their rebellion efforts, and it would have been hilarious if Earth’s situation was not so dire. Instead, the disguise had a bittersweet flavour, like someone making a joke to distract a severe-burn victim in the ER.

"I told them not to choose me. What if he catches me with this? I doubt he will be so forgiving then." Susan and Grace had no answer for her, and the bath continued silently. The silence was not weighty, but tasteful and one she appreciated. 

Once finished and dressed, Susan told Eleanor to wait there and left the bathroom quickly. She turned to Grace, who said "Ma'am, she has a surprise."

Her jaw fell to the floor in shock as James was rushed inside the bathroom. The two looked to each other, both glad to see the other uninjured but still wary. Their history together was not a happy one. “I thought he was going to kill you,” Eleanor whispered. She may have an old resentment towards him, but it was not a homicidal hate. Far from it. 

"I know, Elle, I know. You should never have taken the blame for it, though. Never do something like that again." James wasn’t approaching and neither was she. They stood a professional distance apart, just close enough to be not too far away. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking away for only a moment. That was all James needed to close the distance between them, and one of her hands in his. 

Breaking out from his grasp, Eleanor gazed into his eyes and asked, "How did you get here without the guards seeing you?"

"There is a place in the wall with smaller maintenance shafts and a loose panel. I came across it this morning, and found myself here." She nodded, keeping note of that, but was still unsettled by his grab at her hand. 

Eleanor turned to a more depressing subject, asking quietly, "Where is Leah? Is she alive?"

James lowered his eyes to his hands at the mention of his wife. "She was one of the first to die. Her last words told me to find you and keep you safe."

"But she hated me! I was the  _ other girl _ that you  _ almost married _ !"  _ Good thing I didn’t. You filthy weasel.  _

"I know, but she also respected you for your office, Elle." He took her cheek in his hand and cupped it, "Just like the rest of the human race still does." Eleanor narrowed her eyes a fraction, not liking what the touching and the nickname signaled. He was getting way to familiar with her. 

"But Mega-" 

"Don't worry about him right now," he whispered, placing a finger on her lips and lowering his head towards hers. She turned her head at the last instant and he sighed, breaking away in disappointment.  _ This man is bad news. Remember that.  _

"Judging by how he was treating her last night, he's not going to like this," Grace hissed to Susan.

"That's why we must keep it secret," Susan replied grimly, watching them kiss. "Lord knows what he will do to that poor man if he finds out about this  _ unlawful breeding, _ " She sneered in disgust.

* * *

 

Eleanor had left Susan, Grace, and James in the bathroom when Megatron had called her. She observed that he was shinier than previously, almost as if he had a coat of polish on.

He had taken her into the throne room again, taking his seat and placing her on the arm of the throne. She had noticed that the body had been removed, as had all evidence that it had ever been there. But as soon as her bare feet touched the bones of human beings, she felt the hate swell in her again. 

"Now, tell me what you heard yesterday." His optics glowed, watching her expectantly.

She took a deep breath, starting "He said that you were no longer fit to lead because you were too gentle with me, because you had never given me proper punishment for several things."

Megatron raised a metallic eyebrow and said monotonously, "Go on."

"He also said that you ordered him and Thundercracker to be gentle with me under threat of death." She raised her eyes to look at him "Is that true?"

The Emperor stared blankly at her, unsure of how to answer her question. Instead, he ignored it, simply continuing his stare.

Eleanor grew uneasy under his scrutiny, continuing "He talked about how my scratches on that first day were put on and were not real, and also asked a few rhetorical questions. The first one was about whether they were Autobots-" Megatron gave a snort "- and the second was about whether you had become Optimus Prime."

She heard the sound of bones shattering and turned to see that his enormous hands, which had been resting over the ends of the arms of the throne, had crushed several bones when he clenched them in anger. She redirected her attention up to him, laying on a thick coat of submission before asking curiously, "Who is Optimus Prime?"

He again did not answer her question, and instead decided to distract himself by comming Soundwave,  _ "Is the piano ready?" _

_ "I have it in my quarters. It is in perfect condition, like you requested my liege." _

_ "And the roses?" _ Eleanor was watching him as he spoke in Cybertronian, but he paid her no mind.

_ "They are here as well." _

_ "Excellent. Send them to my suites on the double." _ He stood and offered Eleanor a servo, which she stepped onto and sat down upon.

_ "It will be done, my Lord." _

* * *

 

On the way back up to his apartments, Eleanor was musing the whole way about why he had refused to answer her questions.  _ Like Grace said, he didn't want to answer them and also had to distract you from them.  _

A little voice in her head reminded, and another asked  _ But who is this Optimus Prime? By what Starscream was saying and how Megatron acted, maybe he is an enemy, and an enemy of my enemy is my friend. Perhaps he is the leader of those Autobots Starscream mentioned. _

The guards threw open the doors of the apartment, but Megatron did not enter. "I have a gift for you, my pet, for the great honor you have brought me in turning in a traitor." His optics were blazing with that emotion she could not put a finger on, and he continued "But, you must close your eyes for me."

Eleanor did as was asked, wondering if he might have gotten her at least a dog or even a stuffed animal.  _ As long as it isn’t a mutilated body.  _ He proceeded, and she heard the bang of the doors closing before she was placed on a familiar surface. "How do you like it, Eleanor?"

She opened her eyes and saw a beautiful black Steinway piano, complete with bench, placed on the coffee table of the berthroom. She also saw a bouquet of dark purple roses sitting on the top, tied with a black ribbon. "I don't know what to say," she said, flabbergasted, as she ran her fingers over the smooth, scratchless wood.

"A 'thank you' would suffice." She turned to see that he had crouched down behind her and that he was extremely close. His optics were soft as they looked at her, level with her own eyes, and gentle puffs of warm hair lightly blew her hair.  _ Gain his trust.  _

She stepped back towards him and placed a daring kiss on the ridge between the orbs. "Thank you," She whispered. Megatron shuttered his optics and leaned into her, letting loose a purr and revving his engine.

Eleanor shifted, more than a little uncomfortable as the head, easily her size, nudged into her.  _ What is with this behavior? "Doesn't he hate humans? _ "

Megatron gave a start, pulling away and the air changed completely. Eleanor realized she had spoken, and was going to apologize but it was already too late. "You," he growled at her, raising himself so that he was towering over her again, "are a  _ pet _ who has no  _ right _ to ask such things." He restrained himself, thinking  _ Don't ruin that trust. Just leave. _

Leave he did, and Eleanor could hear that the resounding bang of the outside doors being slammed in his anger. She turned sadly to the piano, seeing the roses. She picked the bouquet up and smelled its rich scent, thinking,  _ Did he know that these were a  _ thing _ for humans? _

* * *

 

She had climbed down carefully, after having been stranded on top of the table - for the staircase did not come up to the top - and now dusk had fallen. He had been gone for hours, which is why she jumped when a familiar, robotic voice ground out behind her, "Pet, I should not have left you like that. Now, come here and take a blanket."

She knew where this was going as she followed his order, stepping into his palm nervously. He walked over to his berth with long strides, placing her on his chest once he had seated himself. Megatron took the huge tablet and selected the TV Show from the night before, stroking her head. He saw that she was slightly jittery around him, but continued to pet her gently and softly, trying to soothe her.

_ Where do I stand with him? One moment I am a pet and the next I'm...I'm... _ she didn't dare finish the thought, and when he handed her a black box she accepted it and ate the salad inside, noticing that her portions were smaller as he had promised. He had his own can of Energon, and she heard him gulp it down quickly and ravenously. 

They watched a few episodes of  _ Stranger Things _ that night, Eleanor jumping at certain parts and Megatron chuckling when she did so, his strokes lingering longer over her back.  _ Never forget your people, Eleanor. Don't ever let them go,  _ she told herself.

Meanwhile, a certain seeker had managed to disable the lock on his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a crossover fanfic with the Hunger Games because it is not an actual crossover. This universe, where Eleanor is called "the Mockingjay," is one like ours, where the trilogy exists in movies and books. Therefore, they are using the material as inspiration and cover for their own movement.


	15. The Dragon and the Donkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Chapter name refers to the characters in Shrek, which I don't own.

Starscream went down the row of doors, disabling the electronic locks with his single arm and freeing his supporters. At the end of the long, damp corridor, they managed to terminate the guard standing there and flew out into the night.

Elsewhere, in a basement deep in the abandoned countryside, Burns was looking over Susan and Grace's reports, unsure of what to make of them. " _ Stranger Things _ , huh? And why would he be so interested in human entertainment? Surely it must be inferior and crude to him."

"Perhaps," the hooded figure agreed, "Have you asked that  _ insufferable _ Simmons what he thinks?"

"Yes," A voice in the doorway answered. Simmons stood there, wearing the dark uniform of Nation, as well as his ridiculous sunglasses. "I think that he is trying to  _ romance  _ her," Simmons said, placing his characteristic emphasis on  _ romance _ .

"Now is not the time for your  _ juvenile  _ games, Simmons," the cloaked man snarled. "This is the  _ President  _ we are talking about."

"A  _ President  _ that you failed to keep safe,  _ Ben _ ," Simmons snarled back. "Regardless, all of his behavior around her does mean that he is trying to  _ win her over _ ."

"Even  _ if _ this is true," Burns said, cutting off Ben and giving him a look, "why her? Why a human, if he thinks we are so inferior? Why not use that cube of theirs to make some female robots?"

"According to reports," Ben said, "The cube only makes males." This left all three men staring in dread at the framed portrait of the President hanging on the wall above the map. 

"Let's just hope she can stay out of his metal claws," Simmons said, before turning on his heel and walking out.

* * *

 

She had eaten the apple Megatron had offered her for breakfast and now they were just staring at each other, sitting at the large table, neither one of them saying anything. Seeing two planes fly by at wicked speed past the window, she asked, "Do all of you fly?"

"Only some of us do, mostly Seekers."

"Do you?"

He gave a slight smirk, replying "Yes, pet. Actually, I will take you out right now." He was very proud of his abilities, and if they pleased her all the better. 

Eleanor backed away, stuttering, "N-no, that's q-quite okay. I like my feet on the ground, thank you." He was about to pluck her up anyway when they both heard a voice at the door, demanding to be let in. Megatron quickly took her off the table and placed her on the ground.

"Stay still and behave like the good little  _ pet _ you are." Eleanor was unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult when Megatron barked, "Let him in!" He truly despised having her treated like an animal, but he had no choice. Appearances must be kept up. 

The doors were pushed open and a smaller robot, only a little larger than her reported nervously in the alien tongue. Megatron rushed out the doors, following the smaller robot, and a very confused Eleanor was left in the apartment alone. She heard a hiss from the direction of the berthroom, and saw Susan yell at her to come over.

They went into huge room and over to the coffee table, Eleanor smiling when she saw James there. "I heard he gave you a piano, Elle." He grinned back at her.

"Yes." She was stone cold and did not want to get friendly with this man again.  _ Maybe he’s had a change of heart?  _ Her own heart asked her, nudging her into giving him another chance, if only out of curiosity. “It’s up there.”

James showed her the ladder that ran up the outside of the table, and Eleanor nearly slapped herself in the forehead. "I've been here a week and never noticed that."

"You had bigger,  _ metal  _ things to worry about," James said, and she smacked his arm playfully at the pun before she knew what she was doing. 

"I don't know when my  _ bigger metal problem _ will get back, so hurry up."

James allowed her up first, careful to keep his eyes away from her behind lest she look down, and they climbed to the top with Susan and Grace following.

"What song should I play?" Eleanor asked, removing the roses and opening the cover, gliding her hands over the keys.

"Something a little more cheery," James leaned against the side of the piano, looking at her.

"Well, how about this one when I hear  _ him _ coming back in?" She punched the keys with fervor, playing  _ The Imperial March _ with a smirk on her face.  _ I will not have feelings for him again.  _

_ But friends is okay. _

They laughed at that, James agreeing that it suited him. "What about  _ I Just Can't Wait to Be King _ from  _ The Lion King _ ?" Eleanor snorted, giving him a begrudging high-five.

"Seriously, now, which song?"

"Move over, Beethoven, I've got one." James pushed her over on the bench, and she shook her head at his antics.

* * *

 

_ "Do we know where they went?" _ Megatron was shaking with his anger as he towered over the smaller bot. 

_ "Please, my liege, I'm just the messenger!" _ He begged, cowering.

_ "Well, find them! Send out teams and tell them that they cannot return until they are located!" _ He left the brig, slamming the door on his way to Soundwave's apartment. He was fuming as he stomped through the halls, humans and Decepticons alike diving out of his path.

Soundwave braced himself, hearing his leader's banging footsteps coming down the hall. All he said when he entered, though, was  _ "Lock down the palace, and put out news that anyone who brings me Starscream, deactivated or online, will receive a shipment of high-grade!" _

Megatron left, going up the stairs to his apartment and hoping that his pet might be able to calm him a little. At the least, his mate deserved a warning. 

The sounds of him approaching only added more chaos inside the apartment as they rushed to get down the ladder. "There's no time! Quick, go up and get under the bed!" Eleanor pushed James up the stairs, and just as he slid under the cover of her bed her master entered the berthroom.

"Eleanor, where are you?" She stepped closer to the opening, praying that he would not somehow detect James, and plastering on a smile as he crouched to look at her.

"Plans have changed, pet. I can't take you out flying now." His optics glowed as they watched her, still holding remnants of anger.

James was holding his breath as Eleanor replied, "That's fine."

Megatron laughed at her relieved face and slid a digit over her head, gently brushing her hair back, before taking her up into his palm. "Starscream has escaped, Eleanor. It's too dangerous for me to take you out now." 

"It's too dangerous to take me out anyway," Eleanor quipped and he chuckled.

She was level with his face and just as he was going to stand up, his optics caught movement under her bed. Noticing that he had seen something Eleanor did the first thing that came to her mind, pushing her small, pink, soft lips up against his huge, metallic ones.  _ What am I doing? I feel like Jasmine kissing Jafar. _

Pulling away, Eleanor saw that she had definitely captured his attention. "What was that for, dear?" He purred, bringing her closer to his faceplates again, his rubies burning with that mystery emotion.  _ Flatter him and make him forget about James.  _

She purred back at him, daring to run her hand under his left optic, leaning sensuously towards him, "I just felt like it,  _ master _ ."  _ Good Lord I'm disgusting. I'm acting like a slut. _

Megatron raised an optic ridge at her, rumbling back "How about another then, if you _ feel like it _ ?"  _ It's too late now,  _ she thought as she obliged him, planting another kiss on his lips. She did not expect him to push back though, or put the very tip of that enormous tongue in her mouth. 

She had to keep herself from gagging on the chemical flavor as he retreated, revving his engine. Putting on a brave face, she asked him "How about a movie, if you have nothing else planned?"  _ Forget about him. _

"Of course," he purred, sending shivers up her spine and standing straight.  _ He wouldn't be that bad a kisser if you were his own size.  _ Eleanor shook her head a little to get rid of the thought,  _ No, that's gross.  _ She wasn't so sure that she believed her words completely, however. “After I finish my work.”

James, seeing that he was gone, sprinted down the stairs and into the missing panel, thanking his lucky stars and poor Eleanor's kissing and acting skills.  _ Poor woman,  _ he thought as he made his way back through the crawl space,  _ he even called her "dear." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I suck at writing kissing scenes, guys. BTW, just in case someone doesn't know, The Imperial March is also known as Darth Vader's Theme from Star Wars (which I don't own, along with The Lion King).
> 
> Review, Review! Tell me what you think!


	16. The Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Eleanor flinched when the girl was grabbed by the leg before being jerked around by the shark. "Why did you pick this one again?" She was sitting on his chest, just beneath his chin, watching the tablet in his lap where  _ Jaws  _ was playing.

_ Because it would give me an excuse to pet you because you cringe so much.  _ "Are you asking for me to change it?"

"Yes, please."

"Very well," he left the movie and went back to the main screen. To her horror, she saw _ The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1 _ there, and his finger hovered over it as if he was considering it. 

"How about we finish _ Stranger Things _ ?" She hurriedly suggested, anxious to get him away from the film that would blow Nation's cover.

He made no reply as he selected the TV Show.  _ Good. Maybe I can get a few more jumps out of you that way. _

When they had finished the last episode, she saw him try to play the next one, and he exclaimed "That's  _ it _ ? He just purges slugs out of his tanks and we don't get to see what happens?"

Eleanor, though slightly amused at his reaction, knew she was toeing the line as she said "Well, a 

season two was scheduled to air, but it never did."

"And why  _ not, _ pray tell?" This situation would have been hilarious if it was a dream, and not reality. 

She sighed and looked away, staring at her nails as she said quietly, "Because a certain alien race invaded and enslaved the planet just as it was going to be released."

Megatron was taken aback by her answer. He could see tears starting to sparkle in her eyes, and his spark throbbed just a little.

_ " _ Anyway, thank you for the documents. I appreciate it." Eleanor had been shocked to see them on her vanity earlier and was relieved to have them back.

"It was nothing," came his gruff response.  _ It doesn't hurt for you to have them, since the human race will never be free again. _

The sun was making its trek back down to the horizon as he stood, putting the datapad aside, "You would like to visit Ravage, yes?" Eleanor smiled unconsciously and nodded. Megatron, more than a little jealous of the panther, exited the berthroom and took a few Energon treats from the cabinet in the main space.

Handing them to her, he went into his office and selected a datapad from the shelf before heading downstairs.

_ "Soundwave, I'm here to discuss progress on the project." _ He said in Cybertronian as he entered. He saw that all of the mechs tasked with the experiments were already there, seated around the table. They stood and bowed, and Megatron took his seat.

Eleanor saw that Scalpel and Soundwave were here, along with a strange one she didn't know. His single red optic glowed at her from between two horn-like protrusions, which curved like a bull's. Overall, he reminded her of a Minotaur crossed with a Cyclops and his sinister expression was making her nervous. She subconsciously pushed herself against Megatron's chest, watching him and trying to keep her face free of the fear she felt.

Noticing her push into him and seeing her gaze on Shockwave, Megatron chuckled and said in English, "Eleanor, this is Shockwave. He is a, ah, doctor."  _ "Scientist" might scare her more. _

_ " _ Pleasure to meet you," she said politely, still holding fast to Megatron's plating. Shockwave made no response, just continued to study her, and Megatron pried her off of him and set her on the ground.

She looked around for Ravage, seeing him nowhere on the floor of the single room. It was too late, however, when she heard metal clanging on metal behind her before she was pounced on. A playful growl sounded next to her ear, before the weight on her back vanished. "Hey buddy!" She smiled at him and could have sworn he wagged his tail back at her, looking pointedly at her hand.

Eleanor let out a little laugh and threw a treat up in the air, where Ravage caught it easily with a snap of his jaws. "Eleanor," a voice called from above her. She raised her head and observed Megatron gesturing for her to step onto his waiting hand.

Raising her to his face, he purred at her, "Do  _ I  _ get one, pet?" She was suddenly very aware of three pairs of optics watching her back, complete silence in the room. She complied, holding out a treat in her palm and expecting him to take it with his other hand. 

Instead, he held her closer to his maw and his _tongue_ flicked it into his mouth, sliding over her hand, all while looking her straight in the eye. "Good girl," he praised, sliding a claw over her head and returning her to the floor. She heard chuckling from the table above, and several comments were made in alien beeps and clicks. She shivered at the disgusting, way-too-sensual thing he had made her do, wondering _What is_ **with** _him and that tongue of his_?

_ "She's very meek, my liege," _ Shockwave commented in Cybertronian,  _ "she will make an excellent harem slave for your majesty." _

Megatron corrected him harshly,  _ "You mean a  _ **queen** _ or an  _ **empress** _ , Shockwave. Remember whose soul her human body carries." _

Shockwave relented, asking  _ "Respectfully, how do you know that she  _ is  _ Circuitsia?" _

Megatron grinned, flicking his glossa over his denta,  _ "For one, she  _ **_tastes_ ** _ like her." _ The mechs at the table laughed, and he went on,  _ "She tries to protect her friends while not showing fear." _ His spark saddened, remembering how Circuitsia had thrown herself in front of him, saving his life and taking her own. He also recalled how Eleanor had lied for the slave that had made her escape, making his anger rise.  _ "So, progress?" _

Scalpel reported,  _ "Several died, and the one that survived only partially completed the process and cannot see or hear." _

Watching Eleanor play on the floor with Ravage, he growled  _ "I will not tolerate anything short of success in this, mechs. It must go right, or else." _

Soundwave had seen Eleanor and Ravage running around too and observed that the latter was the happiest he had been in a while. The panther had not taken his human female’s absence well.  _ "Of course," _ he answered, noticing that he was starting to feel a little protective towards her too.

The meeting went on, and after all discussion had closed Megatron called Eleanor out of her fame of fetch with Ravage and placed her on the table. She sat as instructed, and Scalpel unwound her bandage and checked her wounds, nodding. "Zey are healing vell, Eleanor." The bruises were still a sickly purple and were starting to fade to yellow, the sight of them making his anger flare. Starscream shouldn’t have been close enough to hurt her. 

She almost jumped at Scalpel's first use of her name and he patted her side with his tong-like arm, handing the bandages to Megatron to re-wrap. He did so, as gently as he had before.

* * *

 

Eleanor was discussing the kisses and the licking Megatron had given her, as well as his overall behavior, with Susan and Grace as she laid in the bath. "I just wish he could make up his mind already. Am I a pet or a sex slave?"

Grace and Susan shared a glance behind Eleanor's head, the former saying, "Remember that he is an alien, ma'am. They might do things differently where they come from."

"I need to report this to Nation," Eleanor sighed, "It's just too  _ weird. _ "

Report it she did, writing her letter on two different slips of paper and in pig latin. She told them about everything: the licking, the roses, the Steinway, the fully furnished bedroom, his gentleness with her, his occasional use of "dear." She also told them, that at their first opportunity, to remind the people that hope is stronger than fear. That the Mockingjay still lives.

The next day, Megatron told her that he was going to search for Starscream himself, along with the rest of the teams. "Stay in this room," he ordered, "I'm telling the guards to let no one in, except for Soundwave or Ravage."

"How long until he is found?" She asked curiously.

"Not long, pet. My army is vast thanks to the Allspark and the sheer amount of machines on this planet." She blanched, thinking of how many passenger cars and smartphones there were out there, not to mention computers and TV screens. She was reminded of just how much humanity was outnumbered and outmatched, and felt helpless and small in this being's hand. This being that controlled all of those robots.  _ There were about a billion passenger cars before the Invasion, and if he has transformed most of those and the cell phones and computers... _

"Your army must be in the billions, then," she murmured, and Megatron noticed the despair that made her voice quaver.

"Not yet, we do not have enough Energon to support that number, but we will soon." He purred at her, stroking her head in an effort to soothe her, "Remember, Eleanor, that you have nothing to fear from them. Remember who leads them."  _ Exactly. You're missing the point. _

_ " _ Just how am I missing the point, hmmm?" His tone was warning her, and she cursed at herself for speaking her thoughts again.

"You conquered my home, enslaved my people, and are raping this planet of its resources." She took a deep breath, and he raised a metal eyebrow at her inquisitively. She sighed, exasperated, 

"You conquer this planet and take resources that were ours to keep. You make humanity tremble and surrender, but you continue with your rampage, twisting what we have built so that it becomes part of your monstrous army. All because I failed, and now you rub my face in it. You will continue to rape Earth until she has nothing left to give you, and then you will move on and leave humanity with a worthless wasteland as you go on to destroy other worlds." A tear slid down her cheek, and he raised a huge claw to carefully brush it away.

"Earth is not going to be _ 'raped of her resources,'"  _ he snarled the words and walked over to the huge windows. "Actually, it is to become our new home." She saw massive metal city being built on the horizon, huge robots appearing as little ants as her stomach dropped. "It is to become the capital of the Decepticon Empire, the crown jewel. Your planet, as loathe as I am to admit it, is a beautiful place, Eleanor. Humanity should be grateful to have such a hand in making it better."

She turned to him, disgusted, "Humanity should be  _ grateful  _ to be in the bonds of slavery, watching their home get crushed under your enormous, metal feet?  _ Grateful _ ?" Her tears were flowing down her face now, and Megatron shook his head, trying to stroke her.

"Life might not be so distasteful for humans if they accepted their new position." He said as he ran a digit through her hair. Now it was her turn to shake her head in exasperation, y _ ou will never understand. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Simmons mentioned in the previous chapter was that same arrogant character from the movies.


	17. The Ultimatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Megatron knew that she was still upset, and further tried to pursue the technique Soundwave had suggested.

_ "Human femmes are gentle, fragile things my liege. Perhaps, if it is just you and her, try to soften your voice and soothe her. Pay no mind to who is right, and you might find better results that way." _

"Eleanor, I do not have much time, but..." he placed her on the table, taking his seat and shuttering his optics. Eleanor stared in surprise at the huge man that popped into existence in front of her, fizzling for a moment before becoming solid. 

His hair was black with a speckled grey, crew cut, and his jawline was one that any human female would swoon over. Muscles rippled on his shirtless and scarred chest as he opened his arms to her. "Come here," the man rumbled in an impossibly deep, oddly familiar voice.

"Y-you can take  _ human  _ form?" she asked incredulously, staring in disbelief and taking a step backwards from him. He towered over her by at least a foot, and she wasn't sure what to expect of him. He walked towards her and, before she could react, swept her up into his arms as if picking up a piece of paper.

She gaped at him, throwing her arms around his enormous shoulders to stabilize herself and finding that he was surprisingly solid as he chuckled at her softly. Shifting so that only one arm was supporting her, he answered "Yes, and it is called a  _ holoform _ ." 

Megatron reached up and stroked the tears away from her face, pulling her into a deep hug against him. Eleanor felt stifled yet also surprisingly comforted at his gesture, and for a split second thought she belonged there, enveloped in his arms. They held this for a minute or two, Megatron gently running his free hand down her back.  _ Stupid Stockholm Syndrome,  _ she fumed in her head.  _ Or is it _ ? a tiny voice countered.

_ She feels nice like this,  _ he mused.  _ I must experiment later.  _

"I must be leaving." The holoform set her down gently. He gave her cheek one last rub with a hand that could have palmed her whole head like a basketball before the man fizzled out.

Megatron stood, robot form renewed, and ordered softly "Now, stay here." She nodded and watched him leave, again unsure of where she stood with him.

_ That went well. See, I told you you could get better results that way. And according to the look in her eyes, you had a pretty handsome body by human standards,  _ an annoying little voice said in his processor. 

_ But she did feel good, that soft little body... _ he stopped himself right there, shaking his helm as he transformed and took off,  _ I have a traitor to find. _

He smirked as he rose upwards through the clouds, knowing that Eleanor was safe with the guards at her door and the new cameras in the apartment. He had had them installed without her knowledge, soon after her escape attempt, and also since Starscream was a new threat.  _ Please, Eleanor, don't do something foolish. I don’t like having to punish you. _

* * *

 

James emerged from the panel, smiling when he saw Eleanor. Eleanor nodded back, and asked, "Just  _ how  _ do you get away with this?"

He grinned mischievously, "A few good friends that cover for me."

"Some friends," she said, making her way towards the ladder up to the piano. "You still shouldn't stay too long, though."

Sitting at the gleaming black Steinway, she started to play a simple instrumental. James merely stood to the side awkwardly, but she paid him no attention. She didn’t need him to get ideas, and a power play with her focus was vital to making him realise that there was nothing between them. 

She should have looked up and focused on him for James was, indeed, a weasel. He slunk around like one, sneaking up to lean over her shoulder. Eleanor, concentrating on the complicated piece, did not feel his presence until it was too late. 

James took her lips with his own, Susan and Grace sharing worried glances. "If the master feels the way we think he does about Eleanor..." Grace began worriedly.

Susan shushed her, whispering back, "That's treasonous, Grace."

* * *

 

Elsewhere, in Nation's Baltimore basement, Burns, Ben, and Simmons were staring in disbelief at her report. "Did we read this correctly?" Ben asked, despair and worry heavy in his tone.

"Yes, we have read it through several times..." Burns looked at the papers, for once not knowing what to do. "I guess you were right, Simmons. He looks as if he is trying to romance her."

"And failing miserably. That poor woman," Simmons said softly, "she must be so disgusted with him. Trying to make her into a  _ concubine _ of some sort."

"What do we do? We can't just leave her there!" Ben said angrily, "Let him  _ defile _ her!"

"Nothing, until we learn how to detect those trackers. They are impossibly small..." Burns sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She is going to have to hold on. The good news is, though, that I don't believe that she is going to be a sex slave."

Both men sent raised eyebrows, and Burns clarified, "All of this is too elaborate. Too deliberate and exquisite for a harem slave." Dread and sorrow filled his voice, "It is more befitting a  _ queen _ . Besides, all of our sources in the palace have made no mention of the presence of a harem in their scouting reports."

"Unless he uses  _ human _ females," Simmons pondered, again placing emphasis on  _ human _ . The man could be a real creep sometimes. 

"Again, there have not been any records of this from the cleaning staff." Nevertheless, Burns shuddered at the hypothetical situation of human women forced to  _ service _ that monster.

"Do we tell any of this to the others?" Ben asked, biting his lip in concentration.

"No, Wilson. They must not know of this. We must hope that she stays safe." Burns looked at the disgruntled and worried Secret Service Agent, a broken man who had dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. "I know that you want to help, but right now there is nothing we can do."

* * *

 

The weeks went by and Eleanor guessed it was late November now. The first snow had occurred a few days before and James continued to visit a few times a week. He had only just left after their song, and she smiled lazily on her bed, putting the jeweled brassiere back on. They had an intense make-out session, far more than their usual chaste kiss, which made Eleanor a tad nervous.

Yes, her feelings had changed and their flame reignited. She hated it, but loved it at the same time. It made her feel  _ alive _ to do something forbidden, and Earth did not provide many opportunities for joyrides nowadays. 

The doors' opening signaled Megatron's arrival. He had been searching everyday for weeks, but Starscream had disappeared without a trace. He smiled at her, red optics gleaming in greeting. The Emperor scooped her up and nuzzled her carefully, Eleanor trying to hide her disgust and fear, as he purred "No success yet, Eleanor. But, now I must go into my office to look over some reports." She nodded as he passed a digit over her head and set her down on the floor, the gesture betraying a strange reluctance with the way his hand lingered a little longer than was necessary. 

He had grown suspicious as he smelt another human,  _ masculine _ scent on her body. Her lips were also puffier and more pink than usual and he felt the anger rise in him. Closing the office door, he picked up the datapad connected to the camera feed and hoped that he was mistaken, that he just needed to reset his sensors. She had never given him a reason to check the tapes before but now he doubted her.

Rewinding the feed to just after he had left, Megatron watched as the human slave entered through a loose wall panel in his berthroom, greeting Eleanor,  _ his  _ Eleanor, with a smile. Rage bubbled in him as he recognized the human slave as the same one she had protected, had  _ lied  _ for.  _ I should have moved him, killed him for the infraction.  _

He saw the whole song that she sang for him, sung so  _ beautifully,  _ and almost crushed the datapad when he watched the heated kiss. He saw her take the her top covering off and they disappeared into her berthroom. What bothered him the most, however, was that Eleanor had enjoyed it, pushing back into the slave with lips that belonged to  _ him. _

He suddenly recalled the time when he returned from the brig and had seen something move under the bed. Eleanor had picked  _ that moment  _ to kiss him, oddly.  _ She was distracting me from him, her  _ **fragging** _ mate. She feels nothing for me. _

_ She is  _ **_my_ ** _ sparkmate, not  _ **_his_ ** _.  _

He went back several weeks in the footage, seeing the same slave over and over again. Turning off the datapad, he thought for a moment. Making his decision, he went into the berthroom and tried to calm himself. 

He found Eleanor lying on her berth and she smiled at him with her mouth but not her eyes. For the first time, he saw the real emotions there: Disgust, hate, fear, despair, distrust...

Everything he didn't want to see in the optics of his sparkmate.

He held himself back, grinding his denta, asking softly, "Eleanor, did you have any mates before?"

"Mates?" she asked.  _ Oh Lord, please don't let him know about James. _

Rage climbing, he spat "Mate, as in boyfriend, husband, spouse?" She cringed.

_ What do I tell him? James and I broke up in our late twenties, and I haven't dated since. " _ Yes..." she answered slowly. "But I never married."

"Why not?" He growled at her. She saw blood dripping to the floor, the life of an innocent human being taken for her disobedience. As much as she loathed telling him the truth about something too personal, she would not have more blood on her hands. She had enough already. 

"People like me don’t get married." She whispered so quietly, so meekly that his audios barely heard her, "All they want is pretty, not smart." Yanking her head up sharply, "But I suppose you wouldn't care. Why are you asking me, anyway?" She leaked a little distrust into her tone, and his anger softened  _ just a little _ .

_ But I want you. I want you like you wouldn't believe. _

He stood abruptly and stomped out, leaving her question hanging in the cool air.

* * *

 

_ "She dares to  _ **_kiss_ ** _ this human slave when she belongs to  _ **_me_ ** _ ,"  _ he roared, Soundwave standing off to the side observing the destruction. Megatron had flipped all of the tables in the officer's small apartment, and Ravage was cowering in a corner, remembering what had happened last time. He stopped his rampage, clenching his servos,  _ "Tell one of the supervisors that I want to see that slave in here  _ immediately _." _

Soundwave complied, speaking quickly through a comm link.

"NAEC-240829!" James' head jerked up at the supervisor's call. "Come!" He parked the cleaning cart and obediently followed the huge robot. They left the palace basement, and terror filled him when he saw two palace guards, painted black, waiting for him.

They marched him through the halls, eventually stopping in front of a door. He was pushed in, and his eyes met the ones of Eleanor's perverted master. He saw the outright rage in the glowing orbs, the being stomping over and grabbing him painfully.

He bent and, with a single hand, flipped one of the tables back up. James was practically dropped onto the table, the shock spreading through his legs and making him crumple to the metal.

"How long have you been having these  _ trysts _ with  **my** Eleanor,  _ slave _ ?" He roared, baring teeth easily the length of James' hand.

" _ Your  _ Eleanor?" James chuckled, knowing he was dead anyway, "What are you, a jealous lover?"

Megatron brought his faceplates closer, snarling. The robot to the side warned, "Be careful what you say, insect."

"You really do have the hots for her, don't you?" James dared to say. It disgusted him, the fact that this alien  _ wanted _ Eleanor. His body language  _ screamed _ it, the way his shoulders puffed up and fangs gleamed with menace as red eyes regarded him with hate. 

Soundwave spoke in Cybertronian, seeing Megatron move to crush the human,  _ "My liege, if I may make a suggestion." _

_ "What?" _ Megatron ground out, his tone holding an implied warning, his servo hovering above the prone slave.

_ "If this human has gained Eleanor's spark, maybe he can be of use." _

The Emperor was about to make some comment about humans being useless for advice, but realized that Soundwave was indeed correct. He turned back to the slave on the tabletop, telling him "I will spare your miserable life  _ if  _ you can do one thing." He grabbed the slave once more and quickly made his way down into the medbay, going into the back towards the cells where the test subjects were held.

In those minutes that Megatron had taken to go down to the lab, James had regained a shred of courage. "What would that be?"

Stopping, he growled "You will assist me in completing a courtship of Eleanor. If you fail, you will end up  _ here,  _ like  _ them _ ."

He lowered his hand and James gasped in horror and absolute disgust at the  _ creature  _ he saw. Its skin hung off its naked form in places, metal blended with it in some spots. When it looked at him, he screamed at the single dim optic that shone out of an empty eye socket. The other was simply a hole, flesh a dead, rotten gray in its gaunt face. Glancing around the room, he saw several like the barely-human creature before him, all misshapen experiments.

Shockwave entered the room, having heard the scream, and greeted Megatron in Cybertronian,  _ "Another test subject, my liege?" _

"Only if he does not comply." He looked pointedly down at the human. who nodded furiously.

He left, going back into Soundwave's apartment, holding the shocked human in his clenched servo. Practically tossing him on the table, Megatron scanned him and stored the data in his processor for later use. "Now, tell me,  _ fleshling _ , what I must do."

James stood, wincing at the bruises already forming.  _ I'm sorry, Elle, but I have no other choice.  _ "You really do like her, don't you? To go through all of this trouble for her, and to never punish her severely?"

Megatron did not dignify the slave with a response, but the emotion in his optics told James the truth. Nodding knowingly, the human gave a little smile as he reminisced, "Well, she was always a sucker for chocolate..."

BOOM! Ben Wilson is back!

 

**_Please leave a review!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM! Ben Wilson is back!  
> Please leave a review!


	18. The Painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Once James had provided everything he knew to the jealous warlord, Megatron ordered Soundwave, "Find someplace to keep him where he will not be in contact with other humans. I want him kept alive, but he must tell no one of this."

He said this in English, and the slave's eyes grew wide. The Emperor gave a dark chuckle, optics burning a hole in the human, "Be grateful, slave. Eleanor will soon be a Queen, and rest assured that she will be very well, ah, _ taken care of. _ " The lust in his red eyes laid bare the true intentions of the metal colossus. 

James felt the fear and distaste run through him at the innuendo in the silver giant's voice. "You filthy  _ pervert _ ! Don't you  **dare** defile her with your -"

Megatron suddenly brought his faceplates inches away from the human, growling, "Remember your place,  _ slave _ . My threat still stands." James watched as the alien sat back and drawled, "Soundwave, take him out of my sight."

A cage was suddenly placed on the table and he was shoved in with a large silver hand and locked it behind him with a beep. The other, smaller robot carried him towards one of the cabinets on the wall, which he opened and placed the small container inside. James was shut in the dark, holding his head in his hands.  _ What have I done? Poor, sweet, kind Eleanor... you have no idea what's coming for you. _

_ "Now, the question is, what to do with her?" _ Megatron looked at his claws, studying them.

_ "I would suggest, my liege," _ Soundwave brought a chair over and sat across from the Emperor, _ "that you do nothing. Continue as if this has never happened. That her mate was simply relocated." _

Megatron chuckled at the pun,  _ "But she has betrayed me, lied to me, mislead me. Surely I must do something." _

Soundwave nodded with understanding,  _ "My Lord, you must try to see from her perspective. As far as she knows, you have given her unsolicited attentions and she does not know what to think of them. Furthermore, Megatron, she is slightly smaller than your servo, yes?" _ The larger robot gave a nod, watching his Communications Officer,  _ "She is downright  _ scared _ of you. She knows that you could do anything to her that you wish, and that nothing can stop you." _

_ "And how do I get rid of this fear?" _ Megatron inquired, optics glowing. He hated that his mate was terrified and felt helpless and small in his servos. He hated that every time he touched her he saw the desire to cringe in her eyes.

_ "I suggest with utmost respect, my liege, that you stop licking her. Circuitsia may have liked it," _ Megatron purred at the memory,  _ "but Eleanor does not know what to think of it. She may even think, as Shockwave implied, that she is simply a pleasurebot to you." _ The silver tyrant growled lowly at the thought.  _ "Until her terror goes away, I would recommend that you let her initiate contact with you. You will know when she is ready." _

Megatron nodded, standing.  _ "Soundwave, I have been without a second-in-command since Starscream made known his treason. I wish for you to replace him for the time being." _

Soundwave dipped his head in thanks as the tyrant left, satisfied with his choice.

* * *

 

Eleanor was relaxing in her bath, watching the sky through the windows. She had told Susan and Grace to go into her room and pick something to watch, believing that they needed a little time to themselves. She didn’t know if they had been given time off before her arrival here, and they needed it. 

She watched little ripples move out over the water, knowing that Megatron had returned to his apartments. Thinking that she would have some explaining to do for her stylists, she reluctantly stepped out of the bath and toweled off, walking to the cabinets to find a robe.

Pulling a white, silky soft one around her body and cinching it tight, she padded back out into the berthroom just as Megatron let loose a roar. She ran, bare feet slapping in urgency, worried that they might be hurt. 

Sprinting up the stairs, she ran to the opening to face him. Susan and Grace were cowering in the far corner, watching him with eyes wide in fear. His optics blazed with rage, having seen slaves utilize what was meant for his mate. "Stop!"

She caught his attention, and continued, "I told them to take a break, Megatron. It is me that you should be angry with."

Clouds of hot air came from his mouth and she tried not to tremble as he said, "They are slaves for a reason, Eleanor. They live to serve." He admired how she protected them, thinking,  _ What a good empress she would make, if she was allied with me. Such fearsome determination she would have. _

"Please, Megatron. Let them have a few minutes. They have worked so hard lately." His optics softened, though a miniscule amount, and surrendered.

"Very well, Eleanor." Grace and Susan sighed, as Megatron continued, "But, I do not wish to see this happen again." He held out a hand for her and she stepped onto his palm. "Slaves!" The stylists stood at attention at his sudden increase in volume, lowering their eyes, "Leave this room, now."

They obeyed, rushing down the stairs, leaving Eleanor and Megatron alone. He passed a claw over her wet hair, "How about a little trip, hmmm?" He’d never taken her anywhere before, not really. It was odd but she knew better than to tempt his temper with questioning, especially when he had just let Grace and Susan off the hook. 

She nodded respectfully, "I do need to get dressed, though." 

He went into the washrack and let her off outside her door, excitement betrayed with how he quickly plunked her down. "Hurry.”

She selected a thick sweater, a pair of matching leather gloves and boots, and some plain jeans. There was no attention paid to her outfit, for she was still afraid to stir up his fury again. Tying her hair up into a bun, she went back out.

They made their way through the palace, Megatron easily pushing open the enormous throne room doors and stepping out into the late evening light. His metal shone brilliantly, scratchless and perfect, reminding her of a waxed car. 

That thought was quickly dismissed as, to her horror, he tossed her up in the air as he transformed in a flurry of metal. Catching her in his cockpit and strapping her in securely, Eleanor gasping from being thrown, he fired up his jets and took off.

Once she had regained control of her breath, she hit at the siding next to her, "Don't  **do** that!" She cringed afterward, worried that he might just “punish” her again. 

His chuckle came from all around her as he climbed and sped up. She relaxed, relieved that he took her action as a joke, "It's  **not** funny!"

"What isn't, human? This?" His alien jet-like form spun several times and she screamed. He laughed at her, booming voice coming from all around, and she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Fine." She looked out her window, petulantly ignoring him.

Just as he was about to tease her, he received a comm link from Barricade. _ "Sir, you'll want to see this." _

_ "It had better be important, Barricade." _ He warned, upset that the moment had been interrupted. She had just been starting to get comfortable in his altmode. 

_ "None of us know what to make of it, sir." _ Frustrated, Megatron fired up his jets and flew for the northern slave camps at a speed that made Eleanor close her eyes. Worried, he slowed down only a modicum and checked the pressure levels for his cabin. Soundwave had told him that increases and decreases in altitude had to be accompanied with an increase or decrease in pressure as well. He had killed a few slaves practicing for Eleanor to be in his jet mode. 

"What happened?" She had heard him speaking in alien tongue and now he was making her dizzy with his sudden acceleration.  _ Fighter pilots have to train to fly at this speed, right? _

"We will see when we get there."

The supervisors were waiting when they arrived. Transforming when he was still in the air, he allowed himself to drop to the ground, catching a screaming Eleanor carefully in a servo.

He set her on his shoulder, eyeing the slaves warily. He knew that disease was rampant with them, and he did not want to sicken his pet/mate. The slavemasters greeted him with salutes and a chant of "All hail Megatron!"

Wanting Eleanor to see as little of her people as possible, he asked impatiently, "Where is it, Barricade?"

The cop car stepped forward, gesturing, "This way, my liege." He followed, Eleanor gasping in horror at the scene around her.

The slaves watched her with despair in their eyes, which shone out of thin faces. Their bodies were not clothed properly for the cold, and their feet were bare in the mud and slush of the snow. Feeling him move forward, she tried not to hear the screams of slaves who did not escape Megatron's feet. She closed her eyes and lowered her head.

Megatron, seeing this, was careful to watch his step. More so than usual, anyway. The sounds prorbably hurt her fragile audios. 

Reaching one of the entrances to the mine, Barricade spoke in Cybertronian, "It is just inside, my liege. On one of the walls." Megatron placed her on the ground, bending slightly to enter the cavern. 

She felt a nudge behind her, looking at the police car that sat there. He revved his engine and pushed her to the rock floor, slowly creeping forward and his tires spitting gravel. She held her hands up as he threatened her. "What did I do?" She cried out as he pushed again.

"Barricade!" Megatron bellowed in English, "Stop terrorizing my pet."

Barricade did stop, transforming. "Puny human," he insulted, following Megatron inside the cave. She came after him, looking for whatever it was they had been called out for.

_ "What do you think this is, my liege?" _ Barricade spoke in Cybertronian. Eleanor looked to the wall and covered her mouth with a hand. She was glad that their backs were turned to her so that they did not see her shock.

A scene was painted in red on the cave side, showcasing human faces painted in crude, yet understandable, detail. A single figure stood in front of them holding her arms out almost protectively, wings draped behind them. With horror, she realized that the woman was her, dressed as the Mockingjay, staring defiantly ahead.  _ The Mockingjay Lives  _ was painted across the top in large letters, and she parayed that Megatron would not recognize her, that it was crude enough that he couldn't.

"I do not know what this is." The giant turned, Eleanor quickly putting on an expression of bewilderment, "Any ideas, pet?"

She shook her head, "I am as clueless as you." Megatron looked at Barricade, ordering "Have this covered up. Kill the slaves that did this." The Emperor scooped up a relieved Eleanor, stomping out into the darkness of dusk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Suzanne Collins' masterpiece, The Hunger Games.  
> Reviews help me write the story, guys! Please help contribute! :D


	19. The Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Eleanor sighed, but did not scream, as he tossed her up and transformed underneath her. "It would be nice if you just let me climb in on my own."

He made no reply, taking off into the dark sky where clouds showed signs of a heavy snow. Coming up above the blanket, Eleanor gasped as she saw the stars, scattered across the sky. Megatron, faceplates hidden from her, gave a little smile at her enjoyment of something so simple and everyday to him.

The milky way was displayed prominently, a slim sliver of the moon, shaped like a claw, next to it. Remembering her question from the ride to Jacksonville, she asked quietly, "Which planet are you from?"

Seeing a mountain peak that stood above the cloud level, Megatron transformed and landed, catching her in a servo. He pointed up, opposite the galaxy, to an area between two stars. "Cybertron lies there." He  _ almost _ sounded sad, and her interest was piqued.

"What's it like?"

"It was covered in metal cities. It had animals, like Earth." He was looking at the sky, optics distant. She should have known better than to press, but she did so anyway. 

"Was? What happened?"

He shook his massive head as if to clear it and took his jet form again, not answering her question. Deciding not to push her luck with him right now given that she was a thousand feet in the air, she watched the stars outside of the glass, eventually closing her eyes and slipping into sleep. She had no reason to believe that he would hurt her, and his cabin was pleasantly warmed. 

His scans showing that she was in the human equivalent of recharge - sleep, he thought it was - he slowly began to pass sensors over her, stroking soft skin. Purring softly, he caressed her through the metal that surrounded her, thoroughly satisfied at having her inside him where she was protected. The Emperor banked to the west, allowing himself to cruise through the night and watch over her.

* * *

 

Opening her eyes, Eleanor saw the sun rising in the clear sky and heard the waves crashing on the shore. Feeling sand beneath her palms and smelling salt in the air, she thought  _ Was all of that really just a dream? Am I still in Florida? _

Her hopes were crushed, however, as a shadow engulfed her and metal claws poked at her. "Good morning, fleshling." She rolled over and planted her face in the sand, exasperated (again) and groaning at the circumstances.

The silver giant would have none of this, and plucked up her body into a palm. "Leave me alone," she groaned weakly, keeping her eyes shut and pushing at digits as long as she was tall.

"Come now, pet. I thought I told you that I would take you on a trip." Megatron was slightly amused at her useless resistance, chuckling quietly. "I have a treat for you."  _ I have worked hard to be away this long from my work, precious. I will not have you sleep through your present.  _

He continued to prod at her gently, careful to keep his claws from stabbing her flesh, until she surrendered and looked at him. He grinned, baring those huge fangs at her, and gestured around them. She recognized the beach as one she had visited before with her family, long before the Invasion.

The hotels that lined the top of the cliffs, once full of tourists, now sat as empty hulls. The beach was completely deserted, barren of any signs of human life. Seagulls circled him as he walked down the beach, and she bounced lightly in his hand with his steps. "You know this place, pet?"

"Yes," she whispered. Raising her chin to look back up at him, she inquired "How did you know that I have been here before?"

He smirked, passing a claw over her windswept hair, "I have my ways."

She shuddered and he turned to stride through the parking lot, cracking the asphalt with his weight. Passing through the abandoned downtown, he let her off his hand. "You may take anything interesting to you," he rumbled lowly.  _ Easy for you to say. You didn't own any of this. You didn't try to make a living off a business you built with blood, sweat, and tears. _

Stepping around debris, she walked through the hole of the doorway of a boutique. Eleanor could tell that it had once been a very costly place to shop, looking at the overall facade of the place. Picking up a dress from the porcelain floor, smirking at the price of a few hundred dollars.  _ I have a coupon for the Decepticon Invasion sale. How much does it take off my price?  _ She gave a short, grim laugh at the thought, dropping the skimpy garment to the floor.  _ Last thing I need is for him to see me dress like a slut voluntarily. _

Sorting quickly through what was left in the store, she made her way absently to the back. Seeing another pile, she went to lift the top shirt off and screamed at the withered face she saw, huge dead eyes looking back at her. 

There was a scuttling sound, and she stepped back as a torrent of slick, long, brown cockroaches poured out of the body's open mouth. They were each about the length of her pinkie finger, and she yelped in disgust as they began to scuttle over her feet and up her legs.

Hearing her shriek, Megatron swung his arm and took the roof off the building. Snarling at an unknown enemy, he relaxed when he saw his little femme trying to rid herself of tiny insetcs. "Disgusting, diseased, filthy bugs!" she yelled, swiping at her arms to try to clean herself.

Chuckling and amused at her plight, he picked her up and helped her, squishing them between huge talons. Once she was free of them, she shuddered with repugnance, still sweeping herself as if they were still there.

"They're just bugs, fleshling." He snickered quietly, teasing playfully. 

She looked up at his optics, scrunching up her face at him as she trembled, "Ugh. They carry  _ diseases.  _ I can get seriously sick. You should  _ know _ better. _ "  _ His mood changed instantly, and she immediately regretted her words.

Raising her to mere inches away from his denta, he snarled angrily, "Choose your words carefully, pet. Remember your  _ place _ ." Roughly setting her on the ground, he stalked away to try to regain control of his temper, as recommended by loyal Soundwave.  _ Fragging femmes and their stubbornness. That's the reason that you didn't let any of your followers have one during the war.  _

Clenching her jaw, Eleanor walked in the opposite direction, down the street.  _ Some nerve he has.  _ Coming to a pet supply store, she smirked as she thought of a certain panther.  _ I have just the idea for you, Ravage. _ She forgot completely about the red optics still diligently watching her from afar. She ignored his roar and the sound of him kicking in a building, walking down an aisle and finding what she was looking for.  _ Tsk tsk. What the temper.  _

* * *

 

Coming out of the building she saw her Master leaned up against the side, the metal supports creaking as he watched her silently with glowing rubies. It was afternoon now and he had calmed mostly from his earlier rampage, taking it out on the abandoned structures of the town and wrecking them in the process.

Setting down her little stack of treasures (mostly gifts for Susan and Grace, but also one for James) into his metal palm, he tucked them into Lord-knows-where and plucked her up. "Where to now?"

He didn't answer yet again, walking through derelict streets towards the ocean, casually and easily kicking away shells of cars. Setting his pedes in the sand, Eleanor felt his chuckle move through her body. "Wh-what are you doing?" He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. He was making her nervous. 

"Still feeling dirty from those bugs, pet?" His robotic eyes burned with amusement and that mystery emotion, and she had no time to answer before he unceremoniously tossed her into the ocean waves.

Swimming to the top of the water, she sputtered and gasped at the frigid temperature. He lept over her, and she screamed as he sent liquid up into the air where he landed.

The water barely reached his knees, and she felt his claws collect her from the waves. "What was that for?" She coughed, and he passed a claw over her head with an almost  _ fond  _ tenderness to it.  _ Why so playful all of a sudden? _

"I just  _ felt  _ like it." Her eyes went wide as he repeated her words back to her, a malevolent glint in his optics. Seeing her shiver, he trudged back to the shore and up to one of the large buildings, leaving deep indents in the sand.  _ There will be more time later for this "water play" that the slave mentioned. _

Easily scaling the cliff, which was short in comparison to him, he found an undisturbed room and placed her outside the door. "You need to dry off," he growled, sitting beneath the balcony and looking out to the ocean.

Throwing her weight against the door and finding it locked, she groaned,  _ I'm not asking for help  _ this _ time.  _ She kept pushing and pounding, until a metal hand  _ easily  _ and  _ effortlessly _ flicked the door open for her. He said nothing as he sank out of sight again, and she crept into the room.

The beds were made neatly, as if ready for everyday business. A TV screen rested on one wall, the remote underneath, and Eleanor could see that it had once been a five-star lodging.

Running into the marbled bathroom, she grabbed the towels and shook the dust out of them, sneezing a little. Drying herself and wrapping her hair, she returned outside and touched the center protrusion on his head tentatively.

"Don't throw me into the ocean again." Megatron looked up at her and raised a metal eyebrow at her order, before she added quickly, "please."

He plucked her up from where she stood and transformed, flying through evening skies at his top speed, Eleanor squeezing her eyes shut. He chuckled and did a few barrel rolls, raising some delightful screams out of her. She hit his siding again, and he laughed at her, gravelly sound consuming her ears.

"Sleep, pet." She followed his command, detecting the warning but not that emotion in his voice.

Reaching the palace at nightfall, he decided to recharge with her on his chestplates, stroking her a few times before succumbing. Susan and Grace shook their heads solemnly at this and slipped out of sight to write their reports. Once done, they were placed in the rubbish bin in Eleanor's room, where the new cleaning slave would find the specially marked papers and deliver them to the messengers.


	20. The Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for Disclaimer. I don't own The Hunger Games trilogy either.

_ The brunette entered the coffee shop out of the downpour, a stack of college textbooks in her arms, and collapsed into a vacant booth. He had never seen her before, but he assumed she went to Harvard given the size of the book pile and the fact that the dorms were just up the street. _

_ The coffee shop was empty at this hour, since it was only 10 minutes past 6 a.m. He worked this shift alone until 7:30, when Gary would usually come in to help with the rush-hour traffic. Watching from his place at the counter, he saw her push her wet hair back and pull a laptop out of a messenger bag. She opened the top book on the stack,  _ _ A History of Law _ ,  _ he thought it was, and began highlighting with a neon yellow highlighter.  _

_ He had never had the drive to try to strive for entrance into a prestigious college, and had settled on going to the community one instead. Although he lacked in the brains department, he made up for it with his looks. He had been a football player through high school and continued to workout just as rigorously, so that the muscle on his arms still bulged when he moved the right way. A sharp, angular nose jutted out from between high cheekbones and a pair of hazel eyes. He had been told on multiple occasions that he looked like a twin of John Stamos, and he smugly thought the same himself. _

_ He heard the crack of thunder outside, and the lights flickered before going out.  _ Damn it,  _ he remembered thinking, as he rushed into the back to try to turn on the backup generator. _

_ Finding a flashlight with light from his cell, he thought about the customer in the front.  _ She might want one too,  _ he considered, before grabbing one and walking out to her. She had the light on her phone on as well, and the fluorescent light almost lit up the whole room. _

_ "Here, you might want this," he offered it to her, and gray eyes looked up at him. _

_ She wasn't an ugly girl, but she definitely wasn't gorgeous either. Average, he had settled on as the central adjective for her appearance. "Thank you," she whispered back, taking the flashlight from him. _

_ "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, before he realized that the coffee machines wouldn't be working anyway. He knew that he could be such an idiot sometimes.  _

_ She told him just that, but said that she would take a scone. He returned to the counter and pulled one out of the box, taking it to her on a napkin. She thanked him again and paid for the pastry, continuing with her study. _

_ Later, when the power had come back on at around the time Gary would be coming to work, he restarted the coffee machines and again asked if she wanted some. He was just filling up her coffee when he noticed the way she bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, completely focused on the text in front of her. _

_ And damn was it cute. _

_ Deciding that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain from flirting with a Harvard student, he scribbled his number on the side of the cup and handed it to her with a smile. She had walked outside and stopped in her tracks beyond the glass of the large front window, staring at the cardboard of the drink, before she turned around and gave him a little smile. _

James felt tears slide down his face at the memory of how they met, and he brought his hands up to cover his eyes. Currently he was leaning against the door of the cage, where he had tried to open it but had failed, feeling some sort of electronic locking device on it. He had no idea how long it was since he had betrayed Eleanor's trust, stabbed her in the back and given her away to the beast trying to make her his  _ mate _ . _ Disgusting, sick, twisted, perverted robot.  _

_ And all because you were too much of a coward to take the threat he threw at you. You're lucky he had no idea you were a spy from Nation, because if he did you would have given that away too, huh? Let down your  _ **_whole_ ** _ race and condemn them to an eternity of serving those monsters, being crushed under their feet and pulled apart by their talons. You and your  _ **_damn_ ** _ cowardice! _

The large door opened, blinding him, and he saw the face of Soundwave looking at him. "You're lucky that Megatron is pleased with the information you have given him," the robot informed him monotonously, "otherwise, he said that Laserbeak could use you for some non-lethal target practice." The vulture on his shoulder flapped its wings at him and cackled.

"He has also informed me that the 'date' with Eleanor went  _ very well." _ The robot purred mockingly, "She will make a wonderful Queen, with that young body of hers. All thanks to you, fleshling, so eat up." He dropped a single raw potato into the cage and slammed the cabinet door shut, leaving James to ponder what the  _ hell  _ he was getting at.

He blanched as his mind finally caught up, and cursed himself all over again, weeping into his palms and ignoring his hunger.  _ Stupid Bastards. Stupid effing robots and their sickening, lustful leaders. Stupid humans and their selfish, self-serving ways. _

* * *

 

"What message do we send now?" One of the darkened figures on the screens asked in a thick foreign accent. It was a miracle that there were still satellites around the planet that they could use for such a conference, and for that reason such meetings were rare and when they did happen they were short. All it would take was one of the millions of robots harvesting their planet to notice the signal and report it for it to be destroyed. Burns was holding a copy of  _ Mockingjay _ , staring at one page in particular, while he stood in front of the screens displaying a dozen anonymous leaders of Nation chapters all over the globe.

He smiled and said quietly, "If we burn, you burn with us." The leaders watched him with interest. "Steven! Find that clip!"

Steven, the young assistant at the computer, pulled up the video in question and played it for the meeting members.

" _ I have a message for President Snow: you can torture us, bomb us, burn our districts to the ground. But do you see that?"  _ the actress continued,  _ "Fire is catching, and if we burn, you burn with us!" _

The leaders agreed, and the DVD was marked and readied for eventual broadcast. A report was written to the captive President, detailing the message and saying that she could give the order to broadcast when she desired or thought it strategically prudent, since they had finally figured out a way around the signal block to the slave camps.

Now, all they could do was wait.


	21. The Daggers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for Disclaimer. Don’t own Star Wars.

_ She laughed as she lay in his lap on his throne and he chuckled at her beautiful sound. Eleanor was trying to dodge one of his fingers, which was gently tickling her, pushing at the metal weakly. "St-stop! That tickles!" _

_ "I know," he grinned mischievously, managing to pin her writhing form on the metal of his thigh and intensifying the attack on her stomach. He found that it had the same effect as touching transformation seams had on a Cybertronian - it was a sensation that sent tingles through the systems. It appeared that he was having this effect on Eleanor, and he cherished the sight of her so trusting after all of this time.  _

_ "Stop!" she whined, chest heaving as she tried to breathe.  _

_ "Beg for mercy," he growled playfully, still poking at her.  _ That just might make my vents start,  _ he purred mentally.  _

_ "O gracious leader, please, spare me!" She just barely said the words, trying to keep from hyperventilating. _

_ "Very well. Just this once, human." He pulled the servo tickling her away but kept the other over her - he liked seeing her all splayed out.  _

_ "Let me up!" she tried to get up, and as he went to push her back down one of his claws slipped. It slid right through the bones of her chest, piercing her deeply. She let out a sharp scream, and as he pulled his claw out in shock red blood poured out of the wound, like Energon from a busted fuel tank. His talon was painted crimson with her liquid, and she heaved a single breath before going still. Her gray, organic eyes dulled as the life left her body and vanished, her human spark ceasing its pounding.  _

_ “No,” He leaned over her, scanning in vain, “Eleanor!" But it was too late. His scans showed that her body was going cold on his left thigh, and that her life had been extinguished. _

_ He was left cursing his strength and her fragility, his enormity and her impotence. His cry of pain filled the air of the room as he lamented having lost her yet again.  _

Megatron onlined from the flux with a start, jolting awake the human on his chest. He vented heavily in stark relief, seeing Eleanor alive and rubbing her eyes, her form illuminated by the gray light of the moon. " _ Ugh _ . What -"

He ran a claw down her back and sighed, believing his optics when his sensors stroked her skin and confirmed that she was not a vision. "Nothing, Eleanor." Looking out the windows at the dark sky, he whispered, "Go back to sleep."

She had no protest as she relaxed again and drifted away, curled up comfortably on his chestplates. Megatron did not return to recharge, however, and instead lay on his berth and reflected on the meaning of his - as humans called it -  _ nightmare _ .

_I can't trust myself with her. Not for much longer. It will only be so long before she gets_ _hurt or killed because of her human form. My poor Circuitsia, stuck in such a weak body._

He dared to pick up Eleanor's sleeping form to plant a tender kiss on her head, smiling as she murmured and shifted in her sleep. She was mesmerising to him, the soul of his precious Circuitsia.

* * *

 

Megatron had pushed her into her bathroom the next morning and she bathed away the beach with Susan and Grace attending her.

"Any reports?" she inquired, drying off her hands.

"Yes, ma'am," Grace answered, handing her slip of paper to Eleanor. After Susan had given her her half of the message, Eleanor looked it over grimly. In the month of receiving such papers, she had become fluent in deciphering pig latin and could do it with ease now.

_ Katniss, _

_ Our scouts have informed us of the increasingly deadly conditions in the slave camps. Human beings are often forced to work on small rations and in inadequate clothing, and disease is rampant with them. Given your apparent favor with Snow -  _ She raised an eyebrow at " _ apparent favor _ "-  _ we urge you to petition him for some kind of improvement. We have faith in your diplomatic skills, which you have shown as President, and the rest of the human race does too. _

_ May the odds be ever in your favor. _

Biting her lower lip, she looked to Susan and Grace. "I don't think I can do this. I have no idea what his reaction to such a request would be."  _ I don’t want someone else to get killed.  _

Susan smiled at her fondly, preparing Eleanor's scanty bikini set, "Put it gently, dear. I don't think you can leave their plea for help unanswered."

Eleanor nodded slowly, standing from the bath and letting the water run down her legs. "I suppose I will just have to try."

Snapping the bra into place and pulling the bottoms up, Susan and Grace walked her out of the bathroom and back into her bedroom, where the cuts and bruises were painted on her face again. "Just our orders, Eleanor," Grace anticipated, brushing on some fake blood.

_ Why the sudden change? He didn't have me wear this for a month and he wants it now? Perhaps it is a comeback after those remarks Starscream made, a political move to satisfy his followers? _

_ But why not hurt me in the first place? Why go through all this trouble, even give me luxury, if I am simply a pet? _

She was honestly surprised that she had been kept alive for this long. She thought that he would have tired of her and squished her like a bug, but he actually seemed to be warming up to her - perhaps in more ways than one. She shuddered at the thought.

"Susan, how is James doing? Have you seen him lately?" She asked innocently, and Susan solemnized in her position at the back of Eleanor's head. With gentle hands she finished the high ponytail, spritzing some hair spray, "We haven't seen him lately, Eleanor." Tears pricked the assistant's blue eyes, glazing them.

Grace finished what Susan could not, "The new cleaning slave, Jasmine, says that she heard that he was taken out of the basement, where the palace slaves work, by a supervisor and a pair of palace guards. "

Eleanor raised turned to look at them, eyes wide, "Do you think  _ he  _ knows, and that's why James was taken away?"

"Possibly," Grace snapped a pair of golden, engraved anklets around her ankles, "But no one knows if he is alive..." Grace didn't dare finish her sentence, leaving Eleanor to do so herself.

Susan tried to cheer her up, smiling lightly as she slid a gilded band up her arm, "I think the  _ master _ would have made a bigger deal out of it if he knew, Elle. It's possible that he was simply relocated to another part of the palace. They do that here." They didn’t, but Susan was willing to protect her from any more pain. She had enough of that to contend with already. 

The ladies finished their work in silence and Megatron collected her himself. He did not stop when he went through the living room and into his office, not asking if she was hungry. The Emperor did not even place her on his desk, going behind the throne-like chair to another, bulkier door. Typing in a code, the door hissed open and Eleanor let out a little gasp at the little room beyond.

Weapons of all sorts lined the walls, which were illuminated with a faint, blue glow from several hidden spotlights. Axes, maces, swords, alien guns, everything she could think of was there. He set her down at a waist-high (for him) continuous counter that ran around the room, and she walked past the weaponry with awe and a little fear on her face.

"Impressed?" he chuckled softly at her as she nodded, coming to a pair of daggers. She stopped in her tracks and studied the silver, elegant pieces. She noticed that they were encased in glass, unlike all of the other deadly tools, and were slightly smaller in scale. Their edges were jagged and razor-sharp, narrowing down to a lethal point. Alien runes ran down the blades vertically, glinting in the light.

Megatron looked up from his own selection and watched her, a smile crossing his faceplates. "Like those, pet?"

She nodded, not moving her eyes from them, "They're beautiful." After he changed his weaponry, he scooped her up and left the room, locking the door securely behind him.

Megatron opened the exterior doors to his suites, the guards bowing as his footsteps moved down the corridor. "I have several meetings with underlings today, Eleanor. These reports require slightly different behavior than you are used to..." She listened attentively, not liking where this was going.

* * *

 

President Sherman gave a little sigh from her place, hating the situation he had forced her into. She wondered if he was outdoing himself by displaying her like slave Leia. 

Currently she was lying on a soft satin pillow placed between Megatron's enormous pedes, a leash clipped to the elegant diamond collar around her neck, shivering from the cold. She had endured patronizing comments, said in English for her own  _ benefit _ , the entire day, in addition to Megatron accidentally tugging on her slim, sliver chain from his seat on his throne. 

He had almost broken her neck once when he had lost his temper with one of the slave camp supervisors, and she had given a yelp of pain. As soon as that Cybertronian was escorted out, he had picked her up and carefully checked her neck for any injuries, stroking gently - as any giant robot could, anyway - over the bruised spot.

According to him, this was the last supervisor to give a report. She recognized him as the cop car that had tried to bully her into submission, Barricade she thought he was called. He gave her a little sneer after greeting the Emperor with a bow, and Eleanor could have sworn she heard a low growl from the beast sitting above her. It was so quiet she almost missed it, but it was definitely there.

"Beautiful pet, my liege. She seems to have well learned her new place: between your pedes." 

Megatron gave a vociferous laugh and replied, "She has indeed, though she was a hard spirit to break." He grinned, baring fangs at her, and she pursed her lips, deciding that there was nothing she could do. He had promised another trip if she was good and a lashing if she disobeyed his orders, though she doubted the likelihood of the latter happening. Megatron had yet to harm her, but she was not dull; she had witnessed his capacity for murder firsthand, in this very room.

He hated that he had to speak so lowly of his sparkmate, one that did not deserve to be put down and disgraced in such a way, but appearances had to be maintained. The less that was suspected of her, the less attention she would receive from his mechs. 

Barricade continued in Cybertronian, reporting for several minutes. Megatron wasn't giving him his audios, however, as he thought about where he would take Eleanor on their next little trip.  _ Someplace a little warmer, where I can experiment with this water play that her former mate mentioned,  _ he fingered the leash, passing it through his servo.

Barricade finally finished, and the leader of the Decepticons allowed him to leave. As soon as he was out of sight, Megatron scooped her up and placed her in his lap, unclipping the leash. He pet her, praising, "You did well, Eleanor. Not a single word out of you." His purr scared her, and she shivered more in the valley of his legs.

Seeing her shake, he asked, "Are you alright, fleshling?" Her only response was a sneeze, more shudders, and then a little cough. Marginally concerned now, he took her in a servo and carried her to the medbay, walking a little faster than his usual gait. He didn’t know much about human physiology, but he did have the sense to know that any change in her body was not good. 

"Scalpel!" he barked and set her down on a berth. The Doctor inspected her, looking into her nose and mouth, even her ears. One of his assistants brought him an object which she couldn't see but was promptly stuck into the crevice of her elbow, making her cry out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a little flinch from Megatron, which intrigued her.  _ Interesting. _

She gave another, more dramatic screech when it was pulled out and saw the same reaction from him. Eleanor added it to the mental list of things that confused her, which was growing longer by the day, but also indulged in a satisfying moment of revenge. Anything she could do to make him uncomfortable was worth doing. 

Scalpel took a reading off the device and handed it back to one of his assistants. "Zhe has a cold, Megatron. Nothing unusual for zhe humans," he looked at how she was dressed, "but zhe zhould be covered more. It iz ezential to keep her warm." 

Megatron made no reply, and Scalpel examined her belly, adding "There iz no vizible zcarring on her zides, Megatron. Zhey have healed well." He patted her with one of his small hands,  _ almost _ affectionately, before he stepped away and turned to the Emperor. "Let Eleanor rest, and give her zome zustenance. Zhe will recover on her own."

* * *

 

Evidently Megatron took Scalpel's recommendation to give her food to mean that he should feed her until she burst. Eleanor whined as yet another box was offered to her; she was already so  _ full _ . She pushed it away from her weakly, groaning "I can't. Please. Scalpel said to  _ feed _ me, not to  _ stuff _ me like a Thanksgiving turkey."

She was sitting on his chest while he lay on his berth, the datapad in front of them. He gave her a quizzical look, evidently confused by her cultural idiom.  _ How many slaves get to eat nothing while he feeds me like one might a hog for the slaughter? _

Megatron accessed the Internet, whose servers had been kept up by request of Soundwave and Shockwave for research purposes, and searched for the meaning of her words. Finding his answer on a culinary website, he chuckled and relented. "Alright, Eleanor."

He set the box aside and picked up a blanket and pillow, which were now permanently kept on his nightstand so she wouldn't have to fetch them, and handed them to her. She accepted them gratefully, wrapping herself in the thick blanket and laying her head on the pillow, watching the show on the enormous iPad.

She had finally decided to let him watch her favorite TV series, and he had  _ almost _ made her regret it with how much he complained about it being "utterly  _ human _ ." Megatron had settled at last after she told him it was all made up, and that the point was to enjoy the story. " _ Star Trek _ is about the story and wonder of discovering new worlds, not about being scientifically accurate," she had said, quietly and meekly so he wouldn't lose his temper.

The Emperor dropped the case, stroking her lightly as she watched the show, smiling fondly behind her. Teasing his little mate and tweaking her wires brought him instinctual pleasure to no end. He didn’t care in the slightest what primitive entertainment she was showing him, but as far as he was concerned she was lying on his chassis, comfortable and content, belly full of her odd organic fuel. That was all he wanted - except, he would prefer some sparklings in that belly as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, guys! I KNOW you are there! :3


	22. The Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

_ Eleanor lay on the floor, crying into her hands, the roses he had brought scattered around her. The bright red dress she was wearing had made its way up to the middle of her thighs, and he still loved the way her muscle made itself known in little, almost indecipherable ways. _

_ He didn't know how she found out about his old ulterior motives, but that didn't matter. _

_ "You are the first to ask me out on a date. Did you know that? Did you know that every other guy I have dated before came out with me because of pity, because they couldn't say no?" She was looking at him with red, swollen eyes, her mascara making black trails down her cheeks. "I even went to Prom single, while all of my friends had dates, because no one liked me.  _ **_You_ ** _ were the first to actually initiate contact with me. I thought, 'finally, someone who actually appreciates me. A man that is actually interested,' when in reality you were just in it for the money. Because I was a Harvard student, top of my class, sure to top 200,000 in my salary." She stood and turned her back to him, looking out the window of her penthouse, soon to be theirs, at the skyline of Washington D.C.. "I wanted to love you, I really did. You seemed like such a sweet, nice guy, and I was tired of feeling unwanted and unworthy of love." _

_ "Elle, that's merely what it started out as. But as I started to get to know you better, I realized what a compassionate, loving girl you are. I can't speak for those bastards, but believe me when I say that I love you, because I really do baby." _

" _ People say that hate is a strong word, but they throw love around like it's nothing." She turned her head just a little to look at him over her shoulder, "I knew it was too good to be true, that a man could never choose to love me. That there had to be a catch, something else about me that a man would want, something written in the fine print. Believe me when I say that I wanted to love you, James, but it must be that you did not wish to love me." She didn't call him by his pet name, Jay, and its absence was painful to him. _

_ He moved to touch her, to comfort her, but she clawed at him with her sharp fingernails and pushed him away with surprising strength, fueled by her fury. "Leave me alone! Just go!" He turned, going on damage control, and she called out once more. "James," she said quietly, more firmly now. He turned his head and saw her pull the ring off her finger like it was diseased, cursed, and flung it at him like a piece of trash. It clattered to the dark wood floor between his feet, the diamond twinkling sadly up at him. "Take that  _ thing  _ with you." She had taken to "Courtroom Eleanor", stern and cold, and he noticed she had stopped crying. Her eyes betrayed no emotion as he left the apartment, carrying the ring whose eternal circle was meant to show their eternal love. _

He had run out of tears to give, and his eyes felt dry. He had found another woman, sure, but he had never loved her like he loved Elle. She was just another conquest, the object of his desire for money, but she did not make it out. Leah had stayed in his grasp, falling for the Freund family charm, until her demise. He still knew that he had started to love Elle, shortly after his proposal to her, but it was too late.

Not that he could blame her, for how could she trust him after what he had done? After he had expressed what he had set out to do?

He still didn't understand why she had loved him as of late, but he knew that he didn't -  _ couldn't _ \- truly love her. Not after how  _ readily _ he sacrificed her to save his own life, just to live in a cage. A  _ true _ lover, a  _ real _ man, would have made his decision in a heartbeat, given himself away to the monster, even if it would be futile in the end.

_If you ever see her again, you must tell her that. You must tell her the_ ** _whole_** **_truth_** _, and nothing but the_ ** _truth_** _._ For the first time in a long time, he agreed with his conscience.

* * *

 

"Behave," was his only word to her that morning, sternly spoken as they stood outside the familiar door. Her face was barren of the theater makeup, and he had followed Scalpel's orders to dress her warmly. A dark purple sweater covered what had once been bared, her legs clothed in dark jeans and feet shod in black boots of expensive fine-grain leather. She held her surprise for Ravage concealed in her hands as he entered.

The assembled Cybertronians stood and bowed, each uttering a greeting spoken in their language of beeps and clicks. She saw Shockwave staring at her as he reclaimed his seat, and Eleanor shivered. He was a hard one to read and not even her knowledge from her class on body language - which mostly applied to aliens too, oddly, - aided her in decoding his expression.

The Emperor set his little human down on the floor, and Eleanor braced herself for Ravage's customary pounce. When none came, she relaxed and stood taller, brushing imaginary dirt away from her legs. Seeing her off guard, Ravage quickly pinned her, being careful of his weight and the placement of his pedes. 

He nuzzled her face affectionately, similar to how her horse used to, as he stood on her stomach. He purred when she stroked the side of his jaw and nudged her gently with the tip of his nose before getting off of her, backing away and sitting on his haunches.

"I have a treat for you, Ravage, something new for us to try." She held up the surprise in her palm and he cocked his head at it, perplexed at the neon green sphere in her hand. "The idea is that I throw it and you bring it back."

Bringing her arm back, she threw it as hard as she could and it sailed across the metal expanse of the floor. She winced at the sound of his metal pedes screeching against metal as he wheeled around to sprint after it. He leapt up, catching the tennis ball in his jaws with a deadly-sounding snap.

He trotted back to her proudly, and she noticed silence from the table behind her. Utter surprise and amusement was written across the faces of Scalpel, Soundwave, Shockwave, and, of course, Megatron. He started to chuckle, optics still on her, and the rest of his Decepticons followed suit with their own robotic snickers as Ravage nudged her hand. She felt heat rise to her face and she averted her eyes.

Megatron softly spoke, in English, to her "Continue, fleshling, Ravage seems to be enjoying your little game." This comment only served to increase her blush, and Megatron found that he liked the strange way her pale skin flushed red; it was  _ fragging  _ adorable. He reluctantly turned back to the matter being discussed and left Eleanor alone.

The Emperor now addressed Scalpel,  _ "There had better be some progress on this project." _ He brought his faceplates closer to the tiny medic, growling lowly.

The Doctor shuffled his thin legs a little, speaking in perfect Cybertronian  _ "One initially survived, but there was still flesh that remained. It died soon after the process was complete." _

Megatron grumbled,  _ "Remember your deadline, mechs." _ He leaned back and turned to Shockwave,  _ "I have attempted your suggestion." _

Shockwave inquired with caution, dipping his head  _ "And how did she respond to the test?" _

Megatron bared his fangs in a grin, turning his optics to the human on the floor,  _ "She expressed extreme interest in Circuitsia's knives. She commented that they were beautiful and didn't look away from them until I picked her up to leave." _

Shockwave gave his own twisted version of a grin, and the mechs at the table watched Eleanor and Ravage, the latter lying on his back and letting her stroke his belly. After a long moment they continued to other concerns, paying no mind to the Queen on the floor.

Eleanor stood from her place, letting Ravage flip back over onto his pedes. Seeing that Soundwave had a cabinet similar to Megatron's and thinking that it may hold some Energon treats, she mounted Ravage and told him to leap up onto the sectional beneath the cabinet, which was set into the wall instead of mounted on it. 

He did so, curious, and she dismounted and climbed for the bottom of the door. She observed that it was not latched all the way, and that she might be able to pull it open. Her fingers found the seam on the bottom and tugged, the door only moving a little. She yanked again, and the it swung open a crack.

She covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming at the face she saw. James held a finger to his mouth and she nodded, glancing at the table.

"What are you doing here, Eleanor?" He was pained at seeing her again, remembering his promise to himself.

"I could ask you the same thing." She rushed to the bars of the cage, and tried to grab his hand. He pulled it away, confusing her.

"There is something I must tell you, Eleanor." His eyes refused to meet hers, and Eleanor furrowed her eyebrows in concern and worry.  _ Why isn't he using my nickname? _

"I've done something awful, that I can't possibly try to lie to myself any longer about. I betrayed your trust Eleanor, and I'm sorry."

"I don't understand," she whispered. Ravage, outside, jumped down from the sectional and crept over to his master.

"Remember when I told you that I had started our relationship because I wanted your money and prestige, but that I began to love you later?" She nodded, and he continued, "Well, after we broke up and decided to remain loose friends or acquaintances or whatever," Eleanor flinched a little, "I married Leah for her money. She didn't get smart like you did, Eleanor, and I didn't fall in love with her."  _ So that's why you didn't care. And I thought of you as an old friend. _

Ravage succeeded in getting Soundwave's attention, interrupting Megatron in his discussion of the search for Starscream. Soundwave appeared to listen to Ravage for a moment, before looking at Megatron in horror. He gestured urgently that Megatron be silent as he pointed to the place where Eleanor's mate was kept.

Megatron almost let out a roar of fury at her disobedience, but managed to control himself - even if it would be short-lived. The two mechs stood, leaving Scalpel and Shockwave seated, and crept quietly to the cabinet, Megatron curious as to what they would say to each other.

James decided that hurting her would get her as far away from him as possible, "When I saw you here, I kissed you so that I could protect myself. I thought that maybe Megatron would make us a mated pair and I would live in luxury too," Eleanor gasped, "but I was wrong. He found out about us Eleanor, and threatened me with death if I didn't do one thing for him. I betrayed you, Eleanor. I did something just awful and you need to know and remember this: I  **don't** and never  **will love** you."James spat out the words in disgust, and Eleanor finally saw that his eyes were red from crying.  _ There. I did it. I'm so sorry Elle. He may be a cruel alien despot, but at least he actually cares about, maybe even loves, you. _

Tears streamed down her face, not knowing what to think of what he just said.  _ Does he really mean that? _ A cynical voice answered,  _ It makes sense, doesn't it? He's just in it for himself. Bastard.  _ "What did he-" She didn't finish her sentence as the door flew open, flooding the space with light and an all-too-familiar roar deafening her as she collapsed to her knees and covered her ears.

Megatron was pleased at her mate's words, knowing that they would finally drive her away from him, even if they did break her spark.  _ Now you can pick up the pieces.  _ His surprise came, though, when she stood up and put herself between the slave and himself and begged him not to kill him. " _ Please _ , master!  _ Please _ , don't kill him!"

Eleanor knew, as much as she hated James now for using her and manipulating her heart, that she would not want to have his blood on her hands. That she didn't care what happened to the  _ slimeball _ so long as his death was not  _ her _ fault.

Megatron sneered at her, "And why shouldn't I? I heard what he said to you. Are you not heartbroken?" He recalled the correct human term at the last instant and brought his faceplates close to her little body, expelling clouds of warm air over her.

She spoke honestly, appreciating that James had done as much for her. She looked into James' eyes one last time and saw the despair there before saying quietly "Because I don't want his death to be my fault."

_ Such a caring Queen she will make.  _ "What would you suggest I do with him if not kill him, hmmm?"  _ How endearing.  _

"Move him to another slave camp, another part of the palace, I don't know. Make him a pet of someone else. Surely your followers have pets too, yes?" She was sure to watch her tone, anticipating that any misstep would cost James' his life. Again, though she hated him, she was done with having blood constantly poured over her hands. President Eleanor Sherman was  _ done _ with events being  **her fault** and  _ never _ feeling any repercussions nor consequences for them.

"No, they do not. You are the only pet, Eleanor." She cocked her head at his answer.  _ Another thing to put on that list. _

"Then please move him to another slave camp. Just don't kill him, please?" Her eyes overthrew him, and another plan started being crafted in his mind.

"Very well, Eleanor." He raised a servo for her to step on to. She shuffled forward, casting one look over her shoulder at James, and seating herself in his palm. "I will not kill him." He slid a claw ever so gently over her face, stroking her tears away. Eleanor saw his optics soften and did not flinch as he wiped her cheeks with a claw, trusting that he wouldn't harm her.

He slammed the door shut on James and her past life, taking his seat at the table once again. He held her to his chest for the rest of the meeting, gently petting her spine to calm her down. She was silently weeping into his chest at the betrayal of her once-friend, now more emotionally confused and frustrated than ever.

Discussion finally over, Megatron ordered Ravage to take her to back to his suites, and the panther obeyed. The Emperor watched as he nudged Eleanor, the strange ball in his mouth, purring at her and obviously in pain at her stress. He even gave a little uncharacteristic whine, looking up at her and swishing his tail slightly. She returned a small smile and mounted his back, going out the door.  _ I can comfort her later. Maybe take her someplace nice. _

A malicious grin reached his faceplates as the took the cage from the cabinet, giving it a purposeful shake and gesturing for Shockwave to follow him. James didn't dare ask what was going to happen to him, instead curling up in a ball and relishing that he had told Eleanor the truth.  _ That's the least I could do for everything else I did wrong. _

Megatron made his way back into the lab behind the medbay, roughly setting down the cage on a table. He spoke in English to the slave, growling, "I have no words for you fleshbag. You disgust me, taking  _ my _ Eleanor and  _ hurting _ her like that. Pity that you didn't see what you had while you had it." He guffawed darkly, ordering the cruel-looking robot next to him, "Shockwave, do what you wish with this  _ insect _ ."

He stepped forward, a malevolent gleam in his single optic, "As  _ you _ and the  _ Queen _ wish, Megatron."

James yelled at the leaving Emperor's back, "You promised her that you wouldn't kill me!"

Megatron turned back to him, fury glowing in his rubies, "I told her that **_I_** would not kill you, _slave_. What Shockwave does, however, is up to **_him_** and is out of my servos." He made as if to leave again, but James screamed one last time:

" **Please** , promise me one thing!"

"What would that be, _ pathetic fleshbag _ ?" Megatron snarled, losing his patience. He was almost at the point where he would break the agreement with his Queen.

James said sincerely, his voice cracking over the words, "Promise me you'll love her like I never did."

Megatron stared at him, intrigued that the slave would ask for such a thing. "Naturally."

He left without another word, and James backed away from the menacing Decepticon. "Playtime,  _ fleshling _ ," Shockwave rumbled, bringing over a set of needles filled with strange liquids. 

His back hit the cage bars, and he remembered the other test subjects with horror. One enormous hand wrapped around his waist, sticking one of the needles into his neck and eliciting a cry of pain from his raw throat.

_ I'm sorry Eleanor, so sorry,  _ he thought as he succumbed to the darkness,  _ at least he loves you. _


	23. The Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I don't own Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen or The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins.

Megatron was in an unbelievably good mood as he left the medbay, proceeding up to his quarters. Any slaves and officers he passed stepped to the side and bowed their heads and helms, not daring to meet his optics.  _ Do I comfort her first and then take her out, or the other way around? _

When he passed the throne room, he stopped and looked inside. It was empty, and he walked over the glistening black marble to the imposing throne. He saw the white bones that had been collected from various human bodies, though mostly from the leaders, and set into the stone. He had had it made before he knew about Eleanor's soul, thinking it would be a symbol of his power over humanity and over any other race he deigned to conquer. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about it now.  _ Surely she must hate it, but the rest of my forces have come to admire it.  _ Shaking his helm, he withdrew from the throne room and made his way to Soundwave's quarters, deep in thought.

When the door hissed open, Soundwave stood from his seat and gave a greeting,  _ "What is it that you wish, my liege? _ " Scalpel had already left, but he noticed that Ravage had not yet returned. 

_ "Have you a datapad, Soundwave?" _ The communications officer nodded, selecting one from a side table and handing it to him. Megatron gestured for him to take a seat, and the two mechs began designing a new throne; one that would satisfy both Megatron's followers and his mate.

Directly above them on the next level, Eleanor was sitting at her piano, playing any song that came to mind. Ravage had placed his head in her lap, optic shuttered, cherishing the sound of her voice. It was different from the ones he heard all day, harshly ordering to do this or that and he purred at her soft sound.

She played away her sorrows, throwing her soul into the song, letting out all of her frustration. The minutes turned into an hour, ignoring the ache in the joints of her fingers, spilling her heart out into the cool air. She was too engrossed in her tune to notice when a silver Cybertronian entered the berthroom, her back turned to him as she started one of her old favorites. 

She had sung this one every time she had ended a relationship, every time she failed to keep a man's attention. Eleanor closed her eyes and played by touch, using her experience from many times prior:

_ Well I heard there was a secret chord _

_ That David played and it pleased the Lord _

_ But you don't really care for music, do you? _

_ Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth _

_ The minor fall and the major lift _

_ The baffled king composing Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

Megatron indulged in her sounds, staying perfectly still so as not to spook her. He wasn't sure if she would sing like that if she had knowledge of his presence. Song was not native to Cybertron - it was something only humans could do with their organic throats. The warbling was oddly soothing and he nearly gave in to the urge to purr. 

_ Baby I've been here before _

_ I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  _

_ I used to live alone before I knew you _

_ And I've seen your flag on the marble arch _

_ And love is not a victory march _

_ It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah _

Her voice cracked with emotion and she almost stopped, lowering her head and letting the tears flow.

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

_ Maybe there's a God above _

_ All I've ever learned from love _

_ Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you _

_ And it's not a cry that you hear at night _

_ It's not somebody who's seen the light _

_ It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

She drew her hands from the ivory keys and brought them to her face, sobbing quietly as she hunched over.  _ I've sung this song way too many times. On too many occasions. _

Projecting his holoform, Megatron stepped forward quietly, gently laying his humanised servos on her shaking shoulders. She jolted, not expecting a touch, and turned to face him. Her countenance filled with shock and horror, red eyes widening, "You weren't supposed to hear that." She mumbled up at the towering man, lowering her gaze to stare at her lap.

He brought a finger under her chin and effortlessly tilted her head up to look at him. "It was beautiful," he whispered back, smiling with sharp white teeth. Eleanor made no reply as tears continued their trek down her cheeks. He bent and easily took her up in his arms, bridal style, "Do you wish to play another?"

Eleanor didn't know how to respond. Opting for the safe route, she shook her head "no."

The man nodded, shifting her so that her legs were wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. He pulled her into his bare, muscular chest in a deep embrace. Eleanor rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as she moaned. He ran his hand down her back, starting with the back of her head and ending just above her aft. 

It was a soft, rhythmic stroke, and Eleanor appreciated it.  _ What the hell is wrong with you?! He enslaved your planet and murdered human beings in front of you, and you're taking comfort from his hug?  _ Once more she was conflicted, and tried to push herself out of his arms.

Megatron let her go, allowing her to make her choice. "What is it that you need?" he rumbled lowly, eyes never leaving her form.

Eleanor sniffed, staring back, "I don't know what I need. Everything I knew, everything I thought about him, was wrong. I thought he had changed."

The Emperor pulled her against him with a powerful yank, turning her so that her back was melded with his front. He encircled her waist with his arms, admiring how the crown of her head fit perfectly beneath his chin. "How about a little trip, hmmm? I believe that I promised you one, and it will help to distract you."

Eleanor made no protest, actually leaning into him. She was emotionally confused by his actions and those of James, not sure what to make of them and seriously doubting her judgement due to her former friend's revelations earlier.  _ How could I have been so  _ **_stupid?_ ** _ So _ **_blind?_ **

She agreed, nodding only slightly. He chuckled, a vibration coursing through her body, and vanished. The larger, robotic Megatron produced another bikini set, seemingly out of nowhere, and handed it to her. "Get dressed," he purred, scooping her up and placing her inside her bedroom. She did so behind the screen, wondering why he was having her dress in something Scalpel had said  _ not _ to use _.  _ She heard him tell Ravage to leave, and the panther's pedes made clicking sounds on the marble floor as he departed.

She stepped onto his waiting palm without hesitation and they left the apartment. Instead of heading downstairs, however, Megatron turned the opposite direction in the corridor and went up. Coming to a door at the top of a small spiral staircase, he entered a code and it hissed open.

Eleanor gasped as she looked at the open sky that surrounded them, afternoon light bouncing off of the elegant, sharp spires of the roof. When he neared the edge, she clutched at his supporting talons fearfully. Judging from the distance, they had to be at  _ least _ several thousand feet up.

Her scream ripped through her throat as he threw her off the roof, leaping after her and transforming to catch her safely.

Eleanor bit her cheek as he laughed at her raucously, the sound coming from all around her. She petulantly ignored him, anger pulsing off her in almost-visible waves, for the rest of the ride.

* * *

 

Jasmine entered the royal suites, pushing her cleaning cart ahead of the drone sent to watch her. He punched a special code into the display beside the door, and Jasmine set about cleaning the office. It was already immaculate, except for a small piece lying on the floor. She bent to pick it up, scowling as her black, curly hair fell into her face.

She saw that it was a device of some sort, almost shaped as if to fit into a human ear. Curious and noticing the drone speaking behind her with his back towards her, she pushed it in and gasped.

"- _ cleaning his office right now. I can't believe I got stuck with this one. It's humiliating!" _

Quickly taking the metal piece and tucking it into one of the pockets of her apron, she continued scrubbing the already shining floor, smirking lightly. When she finished with her duties in the apartment, she proceeded down the slave's hallways to her next destination: the medbay. The drone stopped following her; she supposed that his only duty was to watch her while cleaning that  _ monster's  _ dwelling.

She hated this duty the most. It forced her to see the human test subjects - which were usually not very pretty, to put it lightly - and consider how far humanity had fallen in the last year. Usually she was only called in to collect a body, mutilated from dissection or their latest experiments. Sometimes their flesh was fused with metal, and she shuddered in disgust at the memory.

Stopping before the entrance, she inserted the piece into her ear, thinking that Nation might be able to use whatever she heard.

She left as soon as she could, breathing heavily as she pushed her cart down to the basement as fast as possible, her legs breaking into a run. As soon as she deposited her trolley with the others, she grabbed a paper and pen from their hiding place and scribbled down what she had overheard, in pig latin, and left it in the space between the pipes for the messengers to take.  _ Hurry, please... _

* * *

 

"Where are we going?" Eleanor had decided to break her silence after what felt like several hours as he zipped through the sky. She was genuinely curious, and hoped it would be someplace warm.

Megatron had searched their internet and made his decision carefully, taking into account what the slave had mentioned that she liked.  _ Courting a femme is comparable to making battle plans,  _ he thought amusedly. He purred, "It's a surprise, Eleanor." She raised an eyebrow and he chuckled.

He circled and began to descend, transforming and dropping. Eleanor gave a little huff as he caught her, as if it was merely  _ expected _ of him. It was pitch black, and Eleanor saw that the moon was almost gone in the sky, leaving the stars exposed in the Milky Way. She had no idea where they were, except that the air felt warm and humid against her skin.

Megatron trudged forward, finding a cave that would shelter both him and her for the remainder of the night. Tearing through some vines with his empty claws, he pushed her into it and followed on servos and knees. Eleanor had enough sense to move out of his way and give him room. She giggled at how cramped and ridiculous he looked in the small space, and he growled, "Watch it, fleshling." She didn't stop, however, but managed to suppress her laughs slightly.

Laying on his side so that his back was to the outside and blocked the entrance, he pulled her into his abdomen, mindful of his sharp talons. "Sleep, Eleanor." Shaking her head but seeing no alternative, she listened and leaned against his midsection, hearing him move his legs and curl around her.

She awoke before Megatron, stretching and yawning, brushing dirt off her bare stomach. Seeing that light was filtering through the gap between him and the ceiling, Eleanor grabbed hold of some of his plating and made her way up and over him, jumping down on the other side. The sun had risen over a light blue sea, and dew was sparkling on the grassy slope that gave way to a white beach below. She could see a little path through the grass, probably made by deer, that ran into the jungle on one side.

Glancing behind her and making sure that he was still in recharge, she sprinted down the hill, gradually going faster and faster as gravity pulled her down. She smiled at the smooth sand beneath her toes, closing her eyes and smelling the salt in the air. The waves crashed on the shore, and a few exotic birds cried in the forest, but other than that it was silent.

Making sure that her bikini set was secure and tightening her ponytail, she ran across the white sand and into the waves, sending warm spray up into the air. Going out further into the water, she allowed herself to float while watching for any large waves she could body surf.

One showed itself on the horizon and she swam towards it, remembering how her friends had taught her,  _ Always go into it. If you already see one, it is too late to try to run away from it.  _ As she set herself at the right distance, she heard a boom from the shore. Glancing back quickly, knowing that the wave was already upon her, she saw Megatron standing outside the cave roaring "Fleshling!" It might have been the sound of the ocean that distorted it, but she thought she heard concern and worry buried deep in his tone.

He had onlined to fine Eleanor gone, worry gripping him with cold fingers. Making sure that she wasn't around him, he rolled out of the cavern and searched frantically for her. Spotting her already in the ocean, and the alarming wave bearing down on her, he cried out. Something about the wave's size in comparison to her fragile, small body told him that it could be deadly. She spited him, giving him a smile and a little wave, before diving straight into it.

He growled and tore down the hill, grass flying up in clumps, and into the waves. He felt carefully in the water for a body, hoping that she hadn't left him.  _ Not again. _

She emerged a little farther away, perfectly fine, and he gestured with a claw for her to approach him. Eleanor had been amused that he cared so much, but knew it wouldn't be wise to test his temper.'

And so she swam into his claws, sitting as he raised her to his faceplates, "Just  _ what  _ did you think you were  _ doing _ ?" His expression challenged her to test him, as did his teeth. She flinched as his tongue reminded her of its presence, flicking as he questioned her.

"Body surfing." She said curtly. It was true, but she could see that it wasn't what he was looking for. Megatron bristled at her answer and his processor coyly suggested a reply.

Eleanor gulped when his tongue slid out of his maw and lapped at the side of her face. She nearly gagged at the chemical smell and he chuckled darkly, gravelly voice whispering, "Do you want to change your answer?"

She wiped at her face with a hand, grimacing at the opaque colorless slime that came off. "It isn't deadly, and I wasn't trying to run away."

She seemed sincere, and that satisfied him as he stepped back onto the shore. Taking a seat in the sand, he put her down and his holoform appeared. "Show me this body surfing you speak of." He had brought her so she could enjoy herself.

She nodded respectfully and headed back towards the water, the man following. _ This is totally bizarre _ .  _ I shouldn’t be doing this right now, not with  _ **_him_ ** _ of all people.  _

Seeing a huge wave approaching, she gave him a 15-second crash course as she ran toward it and he came after. "Dive!" she shouted, bringing her arms up over her head and entering the wall of water.

She emerged with a smile, looking about for him. Eleanor had to try not to laugh as he rose, his hair matted and sputtering, a short distance from her. "Good! Not too bad, right?" He gave her a spiteful look, brown eyes flashing red, and she giggled. "See that one? Swim towards it!"

They didn't leave the waves until afternoon, and the holoform had to drag her out in his enormous arms. "I've received another call, and we must leave now." Remembering Nation's plea, and seeing that he was in a good mood as he took off, Eleanor decided to butter him up a bit before asking.

"Thank you for bringing me out. It definitely did distract me." She whispered softly, trailing her fingers over the plating beside her and snuggling deeper into her seat not thinking about the possibility of him feeling her.

"It was nothing, Eleanor." Megatron just barely managed to reply, groaning inwardly at her ministrations.  _ Primus. _

Seizing her chance, she went all in. "Do you remember when you took me to Barricade's camp?"

Megatron wasn't sure that he liked where she was taking this, but nonetheless answered "Yes."

She proceeded cautiously, knowing that she was walking through the Lion's Den right now, "Well, I've been doing some thinking, and," she looked at her lap nervously, bracing herself, "would it really be so much of a burden if you treated them a little better?"

His deep growl surrounded her, and she stiffened "How so,  _ pet _ ?"

"Well, better clothing wouldn't hurt, nor would a tiny bit more food..." She breathed meekly.

"And why should I provide these things? They are merely _slaves_ , Eleanor. _Meant_ to serve _me_ and the _Decepticons_ or perish." His tone set her teeth on edge, and she became very aware that he could just eject her and let her fall thousands of feet to the ocean below. She tried to ignore the word "meant", as if humanity was put on Earth to serve the Cybertronians; as if it was their _destiny_ and _sole_ _purpose_.

Going fully diplomatic and hating how she put down the human race, "They might serve you  _ better _ if you did. More sufficient clothing and food will keep them from dying sooner." She bit her tongue to keep herself from spewing a few backhanded compliments that would surely sign her death warrant.

The Emperor was loathe to admit it, but she was right.  _ She has a lot of gall for a human _ , his processor admired, and he grumbled, making note of her words and not giving her a reply.

The call was not the first, nor was it the last. Every slave camp she and Megatron attended over the next week had one of the cave paintings of her as the Mockingjay, and he was starting to grow suspicious. Every slave camp had humans that looked at her with eyes that held despair and sorrow and pain, but also a single flicker of  _ hope _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie! So we see Megatron and Eleanor grow a little closer, but also Jasmine overhears something she shouldn't have. Uh-oh.  
> Simon says to add a review! :D


	24. The Tube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my other story, Skyfall, for the events of the day of the Invasion!  
> See Prologue for Disclaimer.

**_See my other story,_ ** **Skyfall** **_, for the events of the day of the Invasion!_ **

* * *

The unflappable Burns fell to his knees in shock, clenching the report tightly in his hands. Ben Wilson, hearing the man's sobs, entered the leader's office and immediately his expression turned to one of worry. He called to one of the men in the hallway to fetch Simmons before stepping forward, "What is it?"

Burns looked up, eyes a mixture of sadness, fury and disgust, the signs of fatigue on his face now accentuated with his worry. "Read this." He stood and thrust the paper at Wilson, turning his back to him and staring at the picture of the President. Both men completely ignored Seymour Simmons as he came crashing into the room, asking what had happened.

Wilson's jaw clenched as he read the cleaning woman's report on what she had found and heard being discussed. Once finished, he shoved the paper at the bewildered Sector Seven agent, stating firmly "She has to get out of there.  **Now** ."

Burns shook his head, back still to the two men, "We still don't know how to pick up on those tracking devices. And Jasmine makes the point that they were still a long distance away from that capability." His voice was solemn and grim, tinged with a faint trace of hopelessness.

Simmons had finally completed reading it, bringing his head up to look at the secret service agent and the leader of Nation. Horror crossed his features, and the agent stood. "There is nothing we can do right now, is there?" Burns again shook his head, saying nothing and not daring to face them. Wilson felt tears prick his eyes and he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Simmons laid his hand on Burns' shoulder, saying quietly "We will start planning for her escape." He then departed, leaving the leader to his regrets and utter horror at what was to befall his President.

* * *

 

It was late afternoon, and golden light filtered through the sheer drapes in the throne room before striking the gleaming black marble of the floor and shining precious jewels of the pillars. She guessed it was late February now and Nation seemed to have gone dormant with the exception of her weekly reports. From them, she discerned that Megatron had actually taken her suggestion and implemented it. The slaves were being treated better now, but she knew it was only a temporary fix; only a patch on a tire that had to be replaced.

Similarly, Starscream and his supporters had vanished without a trace. According to Megatron, they had been spotted raiding an Energon factory in the middle of December but that was the latest sighting of the Seeker.

The Emperor spent more and more time with her, taking her to the same island often for body surfing. They had even gone pearl diving once in the seas of the Middle East, and he had let her sit on the broad, muscular back of his holoform as he swam along the floor of the shallows. The pearls he had collected had been given to a drone and fashioned into an elegant pair of dangling earrings for her. She had accepted his gift reluctantly but graciously, confused as to where she stood with him. Was it simply another political move, a power play showcasing his wealth to his followers? Saying _'Look, I can_ even _afford to have my_ ** _pet_** _dressed in_ _jewels'_? She thought that that was what it must be.

However, in January she had noticed a drastic change in the throne room. Megatron had never made any mention of it, but it was not easy to miss the absence of such a weighty symbol: his old throne. It had been replaced with a larger, more imposing metallic one. The backrest went up very high, narrowing to a sharp point, and engraved upon it was the symbol that she had come to know as that of his Decepticons. Most importantly, however, was the omission of human bones in the design.

A human's scream drew her attention back to the present, and Eleanor cringed as she watched Megatron berate the slave for spilling Energon on the floor. There was nothing she could do, and she hid behind a pillar praying that the woman hadn't seen her and wouldn't beg for her intervention. Eleanor hated how far she had fallen, going from the President of the United States to an alien tyrant's little human  _ pet _ . She could only hope that he wouldn't kill her, flinching from her hiding place as he roared, her fingers startled into gripping the pillar tighter and curling over the jewels that studded it. Just as kind and gentle as he was with her, he was as cruel and unforgiving with the rest of her race.  _ How do you explain that one, genius?  _ her sarcastic side asked, and she found no answer.

She peeked out from behind it to see him tell the woman to clean it up and leave. The slave nodded, picking up a rag and trying to wipe the Energon off the marble. He growled, gnashing his teeth before pulling his face away and leaving her. She hid again, feeling his footsteps shake the ground a little more with each step that brought him closer. She glanced cautiously, furrowing her eyebrows when she saw the absence of a metal giant. Claws poked at her from the opposite side of the pillar that she had been looking around and she jumped in surprise. His red optics glowed at her, picking her up and letting out a contented purr, "Why hide, pet?"

She gave him a nervous little smile, raising her hand to still the earrings that had swung like pendulums when she had started. "No reason," she said meekly, trying to keep her skittishness out of her voice.

" _ No _ reason? Are you  _ sure _ ?" His metal tongue threatened to lick at her and she shuddered. Over the past few months he had learned that that was an effective way to get an answer out of her, and she hated that he knew a weakness.

_ Better that than Nation though, yes? _ , that cynical voice in her head argued, and she had to agree. Without her permission it continued,  _ Besides, you know you like it.  _ She shuddered at the lewd suggestion.

"Well..." she began slowly, and the tip of his tongue came out - a last warning. Taking it as just that, she hastily lied, "I wanted to play a game." She almost grimaced at how childish she sounded, but knew it was the best she could come up with.

His tongue receded, to her relief, and he ground out, "Well, I have time for games later. In the meantime, I must meet with Soundwave, Shockwave, and Scalpel." He turned and left the throne room, narrowly missing the cleaning slave who Eleanor gave a quick look of sympathy before rounding the corner. He had been meeting more and more with them recently, and it was making her wary.

In the apartment she was set on the floor with Ravage, Soundwave handing her the tennis ball with comically larger claws and she continued their game of fetch. She had given up long ago on trying to listen in on the conversation; they were always in Cybertronian.

_ "Your deadline is approaching," _ Megatron growled at the assembled mechs. He was slowly but surely losing his patience - he wanted her in his berth already, as a  _ mate _ . 

Soundwave dipped his helm, reporting solemnly,  _ "We have had three successfully complete the process, my liege. They have survived and gotten stronger in the weeks since." _

Megatron nodded, pleased, and inquired, _"Are you_ absolutely _sure that it is safe? Know that I offline each of you_ **myself** _if it is a failure."_ The three looked at each other, and each affirmed that the method was sound.

He sat back, a leery grin on his faceplates as he watched Eleanor try to get the neon ball back from Laserbeak.  _ Finally. _

"Laserbeak! Quit it!" Eleanor yelled up at the circling robot, who was cackling down at her from just out of her reach. She had never been able to form a friendship with him as she had with Ravage, and she  _ mostly _ attributed the blame to his prickly personality.

"Laserbeak!" A stern robotic voice ordered from the table, "Cooperate." The vulture dropped the ball and gave a twisted version of a sneer at her before flying to perch somewhere out of sight.

Scalpel spoke now, informing him,  _ "We must run several tests on her for certain diseases. Also, she cannot eat or drink anything for a full Earth day; she must be completely empty." _

Megatron stood to leave, excitement growing within him. _ "Anything else I should know?" _ What he meant was,  _ Forget anything life-threatening and you're on the scrap pile. _

Shockwave intoned,  _ "She should be well rested, and we will need her an Earth hour before this time tomorrow to prepare her." _ Scalpel seemed to agree, as did Soundwave.

The Communications Officer looked at him with a grim look on his faceplates. " _ It will be difficult to get her to forgive you for this, if not impossible, my liege." _

The Emperor vented, calling Eleanor over to him and picking her up. _ "It must be done," _ was his only answer as he left through the door. He could only hope that bond he had built with her was strong enough for this. He didn't know what he would do if it wasn't, but he was  _ sure _ that failure was  _ not _ an option. Besides, she seemed comfortable with him, judging from how she settled into his palm. She looked relaxed, as if it was her place, nestled in his servo. He smiled fondly down at her, walking up the stairs to his suites.

* * *

 

In Nation's Fairfax outpost, Seymour Simmons and William Lennox were arguing. It wasn't a rare occurrence, for two men so different with the same goal.

"This is too risky!" Lennox said, pointing at the map laid out in front of them. It was the product of several months' work, an escape plan for the President to get her away from the fate Jasmine had detailed in her reports. Also, according to Jasmine's latest letter, it was nearing time for Megatron and his minions to put their own scheme into action. "There are several holes here, too many things that could go wrong!"

Simmons rudely snapped his fingers in front of the former Ranger's face, "We have no choice! Jasmine says they are ready to initiate  _ any day _ now! We have to act  _ today _ ! And you couldn't say  _ anything _ about these 'flaws'  _ before _ ?" Simmons did air quotes with his fingers, living up to his dramatic reputation.

Lennox hated the man with a passion. He saw him as a government bureaucrat with a badge that gave him too much power and an enormous ego. Grabbing the offending hand in a gloved fist, he started to argue before an irritated Wilson pushed them apart. " **Focus** , you two!" He stared at each of them in turn, making sure they got the order, before walking away and muttering about the fate of the world resting on men that couldn't work together.

The two stared down at the map, memorizing it for the daunting task that lay ahead.

* * *

 

Eleanor tugged at his claws, asking him for water for the umpteenth time that day. The sight of her suffering, even if it was short lived, pulled at his spark a little. Nonetheless, he refused her, saying ambiguously "You can have something to drink later." 

She sighed, wincing as the air passed through her dry throat. The Emperor had given her nothing to eat or drink since they had returned to his apartment the afternoon before. Now, it was nearly a day later and the emptiness was starting to become unbearable. He scooped her up from his lap, getting up from his desk to place her inside her berthroom. Eleanor raised an eyebrow at him, and he passed a claw through her hair for what he feared would be the last time. He had learned to like it - it trapped her scent very well, and what a  _ delightful _ smell it was to him. 

"Rest." He stood and stomped away, and she huffed and flopped onto her bed as the outermost doors closed with a muffled bang.

He checked the time on his chronometer, knowing that he would have to return to her in a breem anyway. He had just wanted to think this through before he committed her to it, and to do that he needed a short flight.

She buried her face into her pillow, trying to take a nap.  _ Maybe when I wake up he'll give me something.  _ However, none of that was meant to be as she heard the unmistakable sound of a panel opening in the wall.

Shooting up, a mixture of fear and curiosity churned in her stomach. Fear because she didn't know what it was - for it couldn't be James, she hadn't seen him since Megatron told her he was " _ reassigned _ " - but also curiosity because of its mystery. Padding across the floor in stocking feet, she went down the staircase to see who, or what, it was.

She couldn't believe her eyes at the men standing there. She didn't know two of them, but the third's figure was unmistakable to her even though his face was hidden. "Wilson? Is it really you?" She dared to call out, not wanting to truly commit to hope.

"Eleanor!" He grinned, but something was undeniably wrong. Everything about his presence, his air, his stance, was off.

"How did you survive?" Eleanor asked, curiosity winning out over fear. She ran across the marble and hugged him, smelling his familiar scent of aftershave. It was beyond her as to how he found more of the stuff, but that was inconsequential right now.

"They are far too overconfident and arrogant. I think they have just a tad too much faith in themselves." He pulled back and Eleanor saw a plethora of new scars on his face, most likely from his nearly-fatal encounter. Turning, he gestured for the two others to come forward. "Eleanor, this is Seymour Simmons, former agent of Sector Seven," the man in sunglasses smiled and kissed her hand with a flourish, "and this is Captain William Lennox of the US Army Rangers."

He dipped his head respectfully, shooting a pointed look at Simmons, "It is an honor to meet you, ma'am."

She smiled and shook his hand, replying graciously "The pleasure is all mine." She stepped back, looking at the three of them. "What are you doing here? You need to leave before  _ he  _ returns." She hated the amount of control he had over her, symbolized in the diamond collar and that tracker in her neck.

Wilson opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a hand, "I know what it is. Give me one second." She turned and jogged across the marble and back up her room, not realizing that the three men were following her. Opening a drawer in her vanity she gingerly removed the papers, looking over them sadly.  _ You took your oath, and they are better off with them. He may have been gracious enough to give them back, but he may also decide to shred them if spited. _

Eleanor heard them behind her and she bit her lip and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself.  _ It is for the best.  _ Slowly she turned to face them and handed them over, hoping she had made the right choice. "Wilson, take these. They are safer with you." It was the first time she had used her "President voice" in a while, and it felt strange and foreign on her parched tongue which had grown used to submissive tones. He accepted them from her with gloved hands, his old eyes saying  _ I understand. _

Lennox took her arm, making her jump and gently yet firmly pulling her towards the stairs, "You must come with us. We can remove your  _ microchip,"  _ he spat the word, "when we return to Fairfax."

She wrenched out of his grasp, clenching her jaw and sternly glancing at each of them in turn, "You don't understand. If I leave, someone will die." She mournfully recalled the slave that Megatron had dismembered and crushed on her second day, all because of her alleged disrespect. "Besides, you don't know what almost happened the last time I tried to escape." She thought she saw Wilson give a little flinch, but it was so small it could have been the result of her dehydration.

Simmons removed his sunglasses, revealing wide eyes, and grabbed her by the shoulders, begging " _ Please,  _ madame President, you have no idea what he plans to do to you-"

Eleanor yanked away, swiftly turning her back to them. "I've gone from the most powerful woman in the  _ world _ to a  _ pet _ in the span of a year. He'd be hard-pressed to disgrace and degrade me further than  _ that _ ."

Lennox said darkly, "What about making you a -" She silenced him, looking at the bottle of hairspray on her vanity. The plastic was clear, providing an unobstructed view of little rings moving from the periphery to the center of the liquid. Eleanor paled, whipping around and pushing them down the stairs.

"He's coming back! It's too late!" They sprinted down the stairs to the panel, and she forced them into it.

"Please, Eleanor!" Wilson's dark eyes were filled with fear, but in such a manner that she  _ knew _ it wasn't of the Emperor's approach. It was a broader panic, more abstract, and she had never known Wilson to  _ ever _ have that glaze.

" **GO** !" the order ripped through her arid throat and past chapped lips. She forced herself to stand tall and look stern, hearing  _ him _ enter the main space and knowing he was  _ seconds _ away.

Wilson held her hand for a moment, looking up at her from his crouched position in the wall, "I will take care of them, Eleanor. May the odds be  _ ever _ in your favor." She pushed the panel into its niche, the click somehow ominous and empty. It sounded like a toll of funeral bells, but she wasn't sure why.

She just barely made it back onto her bed when Megatron entered the room, imposing and intimidating as always. He plucked her up from her spot, enormous talons curling over her belly with extreme care. His optics were soft as he pushed her hair back and to his full, impossible height. His deep rumble shook her body and he moved to the doors again with immense strides, "Scalpel has to run some tests on you."

Eleanor nodded, having learned that nothing she could say would get her away from that insidious medic. Whenever Megatron took her to him, it was always mandatory; there was no moving his several-ton frame on the matter.

Something was different this time, she could tell as soon as they entered the medbay. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, an ancient warning system telling her to be afraid. Soundwave greeted them at the door, speaking in Cybertronian to her carrier. He replied in beeps and clicks as she observed her surroundings, visually ransacking the place for the thing that was so  _ wrong. _

_ "Is she ready?" _ Soundwave inquired politely, giving his leader a last chance to be sure of his choice.

Megatron glanced at the uninformed human in his servo, seeing that she had already noticed that there was something wrong. Her little fingers gripped one of his tightly, and his scans showed an increase in her heartbeat and breathing. " _ Yes _ ," he intoned quietly, optics not leaving her.

Soundwave dipped his helm, understanding.  _ "Bring her this way, my liege, and she will be prepared." _ He followed his communications officer into the back, finally perceiving his excitement.  _ There is no choice _ , his processor reassured to vaporize the unfamiliar guilt clawing through his wires.

Eleanor was set down on a table next to Scalpel, and Shockwave brought a set of needles over to her. She tried to crawl away, but a flash of claws pinned her to the metal once more. She gave a pathetic whimper, staring up at Megatron's face as the first was jammed through her pants and into the side of her thigh by Scalpel. He said something to his commander, who grumbled back an answer.

_ "This is completely necessary, my Lord. We wouldn't want to have any viruses complete the process with her,"  _ the Doctor explained hurriedly, anticipating Megatron's anger at having his sparkmate poked and prodded.

_ "Just hurry." _ He snapped back. Her little cries were distressing him.  _ Odd that you have killed so many without emotion and when it comes to this little human you can't take a little whimper.  _ He retorted,  _ She should only sound like that for  _ **_me_ ** _. Only  _ **_I_ ** _ should be eliciting those sounds. _

The last vial was injected, and she panted in relief. Like most humans, Eleanor had never been one for shots, especially when being given by robots with unknown motives and uncertified medical skills. However, her reprieve was fleeting. She still felt adrenaline coursing through her veins, telling her that this was only the beginning.

Two drones came over to her prone form, sharpening knives with cringe-worthy scrapes. She shrieked as one came at her and cut away the jeans on her legs with a smooth, precise motion. The other slashed at her blouse, slicing it to ribbons, before Scalpel brushed the cloth away. Two more swipes of the blades and she was completely bare before the four aliens. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the tears as she fought in vain against Megatron's huge hand. Her legs were immovable, spread so that she couldn't close them and obstruct their red gazes.

_ "Beautiful, even for a human, Megatron." _ Scalpel nodded approvingly, but the Emperor was too focused on the look on her tiny face. Embarrassment, terror, helplessness, shame, all etched into her flesh for him to see. Taking his other servo, he tenderly pushed a claw under her chin, forcing her to look up at him instead of to the side.

Eleanor reluctantly opened her eyes, feeling tears stream down the sides of her face and the caress of air in her in usually stifled places. His optics glowed soothingly, but she wasn't buying it.  _ What is even happening? What did I do wrong? Is he finished with me? _

She closed her lids again, dislodging her chin from his talon and turning her head away. She thought she heard a robotic sigh, but it was overcome by the buzz of an electric razor. She fought anew, the blades quickly shaving her most private of places. They ran over her skin without boundary, taking away any hair that grew there.

Megatron saw what Scalpel was doing and felt her grab at his talons. Seeing his last chance, he stroked his claw through her brown hair before it too was gone, shed to the cold metal of the medical berth. She screamed her displeasure, the sound ringing in his audios. He recalled that the femmes of her race valued their beautiful locks, and his spark clenched  _ only slightly _ in regret.

Eleanor tried to protest, seeing the razor go for her head. "No! No!  _ Please _ !" Scalpel payed no heed and in five sweeps all of her silky, long hair was gone. Her head felt cold, barren, and empty without it and more tears slipped out of her eyes.

Scalpel's optics ran over her form, Eleanor wanting to disappear from his gaze. He barked something up at Shockwave, and the Decepticon turned to open another door. She was forced to stand on unsteady feet, her face burning in self-conscious awareness of her nakedness. She could feel Megatron's optics burn into her, inspecting her.

The Emperor observed with interest her nude form, not quite knowing what to think of it. He had little knowledge of the way humans' bodies worked, and so did not spend too long making her uncomfortable.  _ We will soon conquer that fear.  _ Soundwave gestured for him to take her into the next, brightly lit room. He scooped her up, feeling her bare aft meet the metal of his servo and almost letting loose a purr.  _ Not yet. _

Eleanor could only cling to the familiar claws as she was carried through the door into a room of bright blue light. The smell of rubbing alcohol hit her like a wave as she was placed on yet another table. Megatron turned her to face him and she watched in surprise as he crouched and carefully removed her collar from her neck. "You won't be needing this anymore, Eleanor." His rubies glowed softly, reassuringly, through the cold of the space. He ran a claw over her bare skull, that mystery emotion flickering through his optics for an instant. Her mind tried to grasp at what he meant with his actions, but it was muddled with adrenaline and blind terror.

He stood and stepped back, leaving Shockwave to push her toward the machine with long claws. Eleanor swung around, and gasped at the thing before her.

It was shaped like a coffin, round and brilliant white. The lid was open, and she saw the immeasurable number of gleaming fine spikes embedded in it, almost making a complete layer in the top. It reminded her of the Iron Maiden torture devices of the medieval times and she dug her heels in, pushing against Shockwave's tentacles. A cord ran from one end of the capsule to a familiar cube, which was held in some kind of metal cage. She started to plead, screaming through a raw throat and steaming tears, "What did I do? What did I do wrong?"

Megatron barked something at Shockwave, who stepped back and removed his tendrils. He came into her field of vision, whispering, "You did nothing, my  _ sweet _ little Eleanor." She cocked her head at him, confused and terrified beyond words. He breathed, almost cooing, "You have  _ nothing _ to fear, my dear. You will not be a scientific experiment, my precious." A sharp pain entered the back of her neck, and blackness consumed the edges of her vision. " _ Please, forgive me,"  _ were the last sounds she heard before falling to the table in unconsciousness.

Megatron watched her crumple, venting at the sight. Shockwave gently took her body in his tentacles and arranged it in the tube. He turned promptly and left to find Soundwave and Scalpel, the collar in his servo. Spotting the smaller mech, the Emperor interrogated,  _ "How long will this take?" _

Scalpel answered confidently,  _ "It will be early tomorrow morning when the process is complete. She will be in pain for several Earth days, however, but she should be ready in a week." _

Megatron nodded, pleased,  _ "Comm. me when she is ready to leave the chamber. I wish to be there." _ Turning to Soundwave,  _ "Take this and have it fashioned into the design we have already discussed." _

Soundwave accepted the diamond necklace, inquiring,  _ "Will there be anything else, my lord?" _

The Decepticon Emperor paused for a moment, a smirk coming to his faceplates.  _ "I have a few improvements in mind, but someone will need to  _ **_donate_ ** _ a few parts." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I have posted a new story for this same timeline, Skyfall, which details Eleanor's perspective on the day of the Invasion.


	25. The Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have posted a new story for this same timeline, Skyfall, which details Eleanor's perspective on the day of the Invasion.  
> See Prologue for disclaimer. Also, a use of a slightly more colorful word here.

Something was wrong. So dreadfully amiss. Eleanor could feel it, slowly coming out of unconsciousness.

Numbness was slowly fading from her body, and it reminded her of the time her wisdom teeth had been removed early in highschool. She tried to take a deep breath to orient herself, but instead of air whistling through her nostrils she heard a clicking and whirring sound. All of a sudden, a deluge of errors flooded her display.

_ Wait, display? Error messages? What in the holy fuck? _ The only thing that came to her mind was to scream, shriek like she never had before.

Megatron stood behind the one-way glass, staring at the capsule, clenching and opening his servos absently. He was anxious and eager to see what she looked like, and his zeal was manifesting itself in the sparks that flew from his clashing claws.

Shockwave was about to open the tube when he heard her shrill, resounding screech. It tugged at the warlord’s spark to hear her deep panic, but at least she was online.

The scientist paused to look at the metal-covered glass, asking his lord if he was to continue through the comm. link. The Emperor gave the affirmative, leaning forward subconsciously in eagerness.  _ At last, precious, you may assume your destined body. _

When the top - with all of its newly blood-covered spikes - was opened, she instinctively shielded her eyes from the bright blue light with a hand before realizing that her eyes did not hurt from the sudden change in luminosity. Also, she saw with horror that her hand was no longer  _ her hand.  _ It was metal, similar to those of the beasts that surrounded her but much more delicate,  _ feminine _ in fact. She did not have any claws, to her relief, her digits ending in little, narrowed blunt points similar to natural nails. She screamed again, jumping out with considerable agility and landing on her behind, her head dizzy from the sudden exertion.

Shockwave tried to assist her in standing, offering her a tentacle. She shoved it away, glowering at him. A drop of fluid hit the table, and raising her hand to her face she felt liquid running down it, coming from the place her eyes used to be. Bringing up her other hand, she felt that her face was metal and slightly different in shape. Shockwave now forced her to her feet, supporting her as Soundwave appeared and placed a full-length mirror in front of her.

Megatron vented, observing her from his hidden place. She had cyberformed perfectly, her Seeker-like but human-sized protoform retaining all of her curves and even highlighting them in places. Her body was original, but also reminded him faintly of Circuitsia's. Scalpel shifted on the table at his waist, little legs clicking against alloy of the surface. He reported,  _ "She completed it very well, Megatron. I will have to check her systems to be perfectly sure." _ He nodded, not looking at Scalpel and watching her. He shuffled again, nervously stating  _ "Although, there is nothing that can be done about her size." _

He still didn't lower his helm, whispering in awe as she admired herself in the mirror,  _ "She's perfect."  _ Scalpel slumped slightly in relief, having feared for his life. After all, his master had implied that if it was a failure that they all would be spare parts in a nano-click. He did seem pleased, though, and the Doctor knew not to push his luck.

Eleanor had no clue what to think. Her mind was running at a hundred miles an hour, and there was nothing she could do but stare at the robot that peered back at her with grey optics. As far as she could tell, she had kept the majority of her build. Her wet face was thinner, more elegant, with high regal cheek ( _ rims _ ?) and fine, pointed nose. Her head was bare, but sleek and small ridges ran along the top and crown of it. Her hips, she saw, had similar ridges that ran where the bone used to, curving in the right places. They might have become a little wider, but it was almost unnoticeable. Legs remained shapely, arcing just right, but her feet looked as if she was wearing heels.  _ Interesting. _

She was so transfixed that she jumped when Soundwave asked her a question. "I'm sorry, what?" she apologized in English, her tongue feeling odd and her voice sounding strange.

He asked again, " _ Is your body satisfactory?"  _ Her jaw almost dropped; she was actually  _ understanding _ Cybertronian!

Thinking shrewdly, she asked him to repeat it over again, careful to use English.  _ I can't wait to do some spying with this. _

Soundwave looked up, seemingly gazing at a bare metal wall, before asking in English "Is your body satisfactory?"

The question went straight to her core, and she wasn't sure how to answer it. In Cybertronian it had come across differently, feeling more abstract, but now it was concrete. She had actually been changed, her humanity forcibly stripped from her without her permission. Even if her world had been taken from her, at least she had kept her own skin. Forgetting all about his question, she asked indignantly "Where is Megatron? Am I not  _ important _ enough for him to  _ grace  _ me with his presence? Why was this done to me? Why have you taken away my humanity? Is this to make me into some sort of, of,  _ sex slave _ ? Do you guys even  _ have _ sex?"

Her tirade was cut off when her legs buckled and the pain came back again, error messages filling her display as she cried out. Soundwave carefully indicated for Shockwave to lie her down, growling in Cybertronian, " _ Fetch some Energon. She is running on empty tanks. _ "

Shockwave brought over Energon as asked, holding the large cube to her mouth. "Drink," was ordered in English and she looked at the pink liquid with a scowl, taking a cautious sip. It tasted a little sweet, but mostly it was like a thicker version of water. She swallowed, letting it fill her "tanks" with a satisfying slosh.

Megatron slammed his fist into the table at her questioning, ripping a hole in the metal and throwing a terrified Scalpel with the aftershock.  _ "I have done all of this for her, and she thinks she is to be a  _ pleasurebot _?" _ He was shaking with fury, and nearly tore the door down on his way out. 

He stopped and faced a recovering Scalpel, pointing a claw as he ordered,  _ "Check her systems and keep her in there until I say otherwise. Give her the armor that fits the specifications I discussed with Soundwave and comm. me when you have the parts I require." _ His footsteps boomed through the medbay, signalling his departure.

Eleanor flinched, moving her head away from the Energon as she watched the bare wall with interest. It sounded as if someone had knocked something over in another room and was yelling about it for some odd reason. The voice was loud enough for her to hear, but not enough for her to recognize it.

Soundwave nodded at Shockwave, who left the room silently without a second glance in her direction.  _ Creep _ . "I know that you are upset, Eleanor," she looked up at him, "but please know that I cannot give you any answers."

She gave him a rueful smile, "I understand, Soundwave. You had to follow your orders. But, if I may ask, what do I do now? Just sit here?" He looked as if he was going to answer, but the panel slid open and Scalpel was lifted onto the birth by his flying assistants.

"Ve vill zee about your zystems, yes?" She stared at him from her position and agreed.

"Just get it over with."

She let him poke around in her wires, starting near her head. Slowly he worked his way down, sticking his tiny fingers into different seams and using some kind of scanner over her body. She gave a sigh, or something close to it, and let him work while she tried to process what had just happened.

* * *

 

Megatron selected the spear from his weapons room, claws curling around the familiar shaft, before leaving his apartments for the roof. He was still raging about Eleanor's misconceptions, not understanding how his motives were unclear.  _ Fragging femmes. _

Transforming, he flew westward, looking for a place he could unleash his anger. He supposed that he could have taken it out on any minion of his choosing, but he knew he couldn't without giving something away; something which must be kept secret until the correct time.

Finding a copse of trees that would suit his fury, he landed and brought out his spear, watching it gleam in the early morning sun. He brought back his arm and used his several-ton frame, as well as his temper, to give it momentum, watching it fly across the meadow and split one of the oaks with a tremendous  _ crack _ . Stomping over and snarling, he scooped it up and hurled it again into another unfortunate tree, watching the wood splinter as a deadly chasm opened in the trunk.

And so the suitor expressed his frustration over the small, delicate femme that refused to appreciate his attentions; truly, it was a tale as old as time.

* * *

 

"Damn it, if you had just listened to me Lennox-" Simmons started before the Captain shoved him up against a tree, knocking the wind out of him.

Lennox growled through clenched teeth, getting inches away from Seymour's face, "For the last time, it was  **_not my fault_ ** _. _ " He shoved him, stepping back and walking after Wilson's cloaked back and eventually catching up with the taller man's stride. "When will we report to Burns our failure?"

"I will be doing the reporting, Captain. It is my duty, as the leader of this mission, and as the reason this mission was a defeat, to disclose the details." Wilson wasn't looking at him, keeping his voice low and his eyes fixed on the path ahead as they marched through the snow.

"Why was it your fault, sir? Was it not all of us?" Lennox was sure to make his tone respectful and modest.

"I could have grabbed her, given her a gag if it was necessary. But I didn't. I keep seeing her as someone whose orders I need to obey, and in the moment I regressed." Part of it was a lie, an oversimplification of the truth, and Wilson hated himself for hiding the real reason. A piece of him still hurt at his lack of intervention at the scene of her attempted rape, still lamented that he had let that  _ fiend _ get to her first. Another, even smaller part knew that the beast cared for her, wanted to protect her and execute any who attempted to injure the woman. He was no fool; his observational skills had allowed him to see that she was well fed and without a single scratch or mark upon her body when they came to her earlier.

Wilson was loathe to admit it but the Decepticon commander cherished, maybe even deigned to feel something close to  _ love _ for, his President. He didn't have the slightest idea as to  _ why _ , as to what could be gained by the robot, but he understood it to be the  _ cold hard  _ **_truth_ ** .

* * *

 

The Doctor finally finished with her examination, stepping away from her and nodding at his handiwork. He turned to Soundwave, ordering in accent-less Cybertronian, " _ She must rest. Leave; I will check on her later. _ " The skeletal robot climbed onto the waiting hand, his feet making little clicks, and the door hissed shut and the lock clicked behind them.  _ As if I could get out of here anyway, with my size. _

Eleanor vented, looking up at the bright blue light above her as she lay on the table. She really was tired, or whatever Cybertronians got to be, and tried turning off her optics. Surprisingly, it worked. She willed herself to relax, thinking that one might be able to enter "recharge" as one would sleep.

_ Her bed was especially warm that night, as they reclined upon the pillows and watched one of the  _ Harry Potter _ films. Oddly enough, Megatron's holoform seemed to give off heat like an actual human body would. He was plenty warm and she snuggled deeper into his chest, trying to ignore the pang of guilt gnawing at her heart for such an act. _

_ Megatron let out what sounded like a purr, pulling her back tighter against his muscular body. "What are you doing?" she had asked fearfully, confused by his actions and their meaning. _

_ "Warming you up. Your hands are cold." had been his gruff response. Doubting his words, since her hands were very warm, she tried to wriggle out of his arms. However, his grip was infallible and she slumped in defeat as he hugged her even closer. _

_ "Don't fight me and expect to triumph, pet." he had growled huskily, and she thought she felt his tongue ghost over her ear. _

Another memory came about, of when Megatron had found a pair of ice skates in a sports supply store on one of their trips.

_ He held them up by the laces, letting them dangle from his enormous claws, while raising a metal eyebrow quizzically. "What are these, fleshling?" _

_ She looked up from the corner with the tennis supplies - since Ravage had ruined all of the balls with his sharp teeth - and giggled, smirking at the confused look on his face. _

_ "Those? They're ice skates." _

_ He held a blank stare for several seconds before turning to look at them again, "So they are not weapons?" _

_ She couldn't help but laugh at his cluelessness, clapping her hands together once and throwing her head back, "No,  _ **_definitely_ ** _ not. Not everything with blades on it is a weapon, you know." _

_ He set them down, growling, "Whatever you say,  _ pathetic flesh creature _." He was not accustomed to being mocked, especially by humans smaller than his servo. _

_ Eleanor chuckled, not taking his grumble seriously and teasing, "Whatever you say,  _ robot _." _

_ He focused on her again, an evil smile gradually crossing his face. She was unsettled by his creepy stare, not knowing what was going through his head. He took a step towards her, baring his fangs and holding his arms out to his sides while bending menacingly. Unconsciously, she set her foot back a pace and he replied by advancing forward. _

_ Eventually the Emperor had her against a wall, and she submissively lowered her gaze to the side at the ground. His hot ex-vents billowed over her, his mouth inches away from her body. Slowly, he let out a deep rumble that reminded her of a dragon and butted the tip of his nose ridge into her stomach. "Eyes on me, Eleanor." _

_ She followed his order reluctantly, peering into the fiery orbs that hovered right in front of her. He revved his engine, pushing into her slightly rougher and huffing. Prudently she brought her hand up and stroked along the sides of one of his rims. He lent into her hand, and his optics shut off as a loud purr sent vibrations up her arm. When she stopped he prompted her again and Eleanor repeated the action, gliding her fingers lightly over his faceplates. He taunted lowly, "Lesser beings are the playthings of my will, pet. Remember that." _

_ She paused, upset by his insensitive and domineering words. He growled lowly and grazed her belly carefully with his teeth in an explicit threat. Sighing, she returned to her touching and he chuckled at her surrender, nuzzling into her digits. _

Her optics shot open and she saw Soundwave hovering over her.

"Did you recharge well, Eleanor?" he inquired as she focused.

"Yes," she replied, trying to sit up but hissing at the pain.

"Stay down. You must still rest for several days." With that he held an Energon cube to her mouth, and she latched her lips over the edge and drank her fill without a fight.  _ The taste isn't so bad _ , she admitted,  _ once you get used to it. _

"How long was I out?" she asked tentatively, wiping at her mouth with a hand.

"At least an Earth day," he said softly, setting aside the cube. He picked up a package and propped her up gently. "Megatron wants you to wear these."

She looked at the small pile of metal coverings he set in front of her, all shining brilliant silver. "I will show you how to put them on."

She selected a random piece, watching it reflect the light and feeling the fine engravings that decorated it. It had tiny latches on the inside, and she assumed it would click onto her new body. He took it from her carefully and laid it over her right breastplate, pushing slightly and letting it attach. She selected the matching cover, and with some fumbling managed to secure it over her left.

When they were finished with the "armor," as Soundwave called it, she was covered in the same way as she had been with the Fantasy Bra; that is, scantily. Only her pelvic regions and her breast areas were hidden by the fancy decoration, while the rest was bare.

Soundwave nodded and left, telling her to return to her rest.

When she laid back down, she brought her left arm up over her optics and groaned at the numbing pain still traversing her body. Something white in her wrist caught her attention, and she raised it again to look closely at it.

It was a small, thick shard of pale bone, wrapped tightly in the wires deep within her arm.  _ It must not have transformed correctly for some reason.  _ She didn't know how Scalpel had missed it during his rather thorough examination, but he had. She closed her other hand over it and felt tears leak from her optics at the painful tribute that hit so close to home.

A solemn reminder that a part of her would always be human, no matter what happened to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Wonder if anyone got the Beauty and the Beast quote in there...  
> I have posted a new story for this same timeline, Skyfall, which details Eleanor's perspective on the day of the Invasion.  
> Review, review!


	26. The Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the Prologue for the disclaimer.   
> Gore in the beginning italicized portion, so just skip that part if you don't like it. Nothing terribly essential to the plot there.

_ Megatron's red optics bore into the revolutionary, and Eleanor tried to hide her face from the man's gaze. She couldn't help him; she couldn't help anyone anymore. She didn't even know why she was here, for one minute they had been watching Star Trek and the next he was running through the hallways with her clinging to his finger, along for the ride. Perhaps he had forgotten she was there, since it had become second-nature for the Emperor to take her wherever he went. Another possibility was that he had wanted her to see this, to remind her of the violence he was capable of and his control over every aspect of her life. _

_ He had been refused an answer from his captive too many times, and his patience had finally worn itself out. "Oh? So unwise," he growled at the silent spy and took his claw and he smoothly slashed an eye out. Nothing was left but a bloody eye socket, crimson fluid running down his face from the spot. The man screamed in agony, a sharp sound that hurt her ears, even in her place on a side table, and made her cover her mouth to stifle her sob. _

_ When the man still wouldn't talk Megatron roared something at Soundwave, who was standing next to her, and the Decepticon ordered quietly in Cybertronian. _

_ The door hissed open a minute later, and one of the palace guards entered with a metal, fierce-looking lion clasped in a hand. The feline was set down on the table next to the man, whom Megatron now had pinned with a hand, and the Emperor gave the insurgent one final chance to speak. Receiving no response, her master barked at the lion. _

_ It leapt eagerly at the man and took a chunk out of his thigh with the ease of a hot knife through warm butter. His anguished cry echoed off the metal walls of the small space, and blood poured freely from the wound that affected almost half of his upper leg. _

_ Slowly, the rebel was pulled apart and Megatron cackled at his suffering. When her fingers didn't manage to silence a particularly shrill screech as the man's leg - or what remained of it - was yanked free with a snap, the Emperor raised his head from the show and finally noticed her. _

_ His expression immediately went from one of sinister amusement to one tinged prominently with surprise and only slightly with shame. He nodded at Soundwave, his optics indicating her, and she was scooped up and taken out. _

_ But not before she heard the man's last cry, a gurgling sound that haunted her nightmares for a week. _

_ That night she had lain in her bed and tried to ignore him, more confused than ever at why he treated her so well and the others so poorly. Why she was so special. Fear also settled in her stomach, at what he would do to her if he knew what she was doing for the rebels; that man had only been a spy, but she was acting as a leader of sorts for them. What kind of punishment or execution would that entail? _

_ Later, he had seen her tears and tried to comfort her with his rather handsome holoform, but she curled in on herself and cried harder, screaming for him to leave her alone. Predictably, he didn't, taking up the ball her body made and moving her to his abdomen. He lay underneath her and let her weep, stroking her spine and remaining absolutely silent through her tirade. Eventually she had fallen asleep and when she awoke he was there, watching her and hugging her to him. She had tried to claw her way off of him, still disgusted, but it was no use. _

_ Megatron won, just as he always does. _

Eleanor came out of recharge at the piercing sound that permeated her ears, or whatever Cybertronians called them. "There you are." Shockwave stood over her this time, wearing no expression on his face and holding an odd-shaped tool that must have produced the noise. "Lord Megatron wishes for you to drink up." He said emotionlessly, his deep baritone taking the place of silence.

Another huge cube of Energon was held to her mouth, and she sipped some of the liquid obediently. She drank until her tanks were satisfied, and Shockwave nodded for her to recharge some more. Complying, she laid herself back down, noticing the absence of pain this time, and the door clicked shut.

Shockwave joined the rest of the mechs standing around a table, reporting in Cybertronian to the Emperor the specifications of Eleanor's new form.

Scalpel shifted anxiously, and Shockwave knew what was going to be said next.  _ "She doesn't have a T-Cog, Megatron." _

The Emperor and Ruler of the Earth was about to make his rage known in an incredibly loud manner, but he stopped and reconsidered, mulling over what that meant.  _ She can't get away. She will always be close to me, no matter how she feels about it. _ He purred at the thought and instead replied,  _ "What else?" _

Soundwave spoke,  _ "Although she has a Seeker build, she lacks her wings. All she has are thrusters." _

Megatron's optics glowed with what each of them identified as lust and the warlord nodded at their reports, pleased at her inability to escape. _ "What of her chamber?" _ he inquired, a dangerous undertone to his voice.

Scalpel answered,  _ "My scans show that it is fully functioning and healthy, Megatron." _

For once in a blue moon, the tyrant genuinely smiled at the news.  _ "Beautifully done, mechs. You have brought great honor upon her." _ They all dipped their helms respectfully at the praise, and Megatron continued  _ "Now, you have obtained the parts, correct?" _

Soundwave replied in the affirmative, and Megatron asked  _ "Are you ready to start the procedure?" _

The group nodded and gestured for their master to enter the back room, which was specially prepared for his surgery. He proceeded ahead of them, grinning lewdly at the thought of his upgrade and, more specifically, what his Eleanor would think of it.

* * *

 

_ Eleanor sat in his lap on his throne, her legs crossed under her, hunched over the box of chocolates. He had said that he had found them for her, but she knew See's candies didn't keep for more than a year.  _ He must have had them specially made _ , she thought, _ taking a bite out of the first one and moaning. He could've fooled me with the taste, though. It is exactly the same.

_ She swirled the chocolate in her mouth, ignoring her master's pets along her head, and selected another. Swallowing, she popped it in her mouth and lay back, reclining against his metal hip and stretching her jean-clad legs in front of her. _

_ He hummed, shifting with a whirring of gears and groaning of metal. He looked at the box in her lap, a curious look on the metal of his face. "I must try one of these for myself." She protested, but he picked up one from its place in the box, somehow managing to hold the tiny piece in between two huge claws. He leaned back and held his hand in the air over his head, dropping it into his mouth like a grape. _

_ "Can you even  _ eat _ anything besides Energon?" she inquired, watching him taste the chocolate. A pleased expression came across his face, and he made a sound of pleasure while raising a metal eyebrow. _

_ "These are very good." He admitted quietly, smirking. _

_ He swallowed, his massive gullet enveloping the candy, and peered down at her. Megatron answered her question, "Yes I can consume other substances." He purred, his tone becoming playful as he put a claw under her chin, " _ humans _ included." His optics burned lustfully and made her want to shrink away, but the moment soon passed as he plucked up the box from her lap and, to her absolute shock, dumped all of the remaining chocolates into his open mouth. _

_ She crossed her arms, irritated that he had taken her gift. Megatron smirked down at her, stroking her head with a claw. "I'll get more," he promised after the treats were gone. _

_ "So you can eat those too? They can't be good for you." She gesticulated at the metal of his body and he chuckled at her anger, looking down at her with his rubies. _

_ "I can have a little. My system will handle it fine until it can be removed. And no, I will not eat all of them." She pursed her lips and held his gaze. _

_ "Not fair." She whined. _

_ He grinned at her with huge fangs while playfully responding,"Nothing ever is, pet." _

Her brain queued another memory, this one more sensitive.

_ Silence reigned in the throne room, empty of all except the Emperor and the President. The latter was lying in the former's lap, adorned with jewels and collar to showcase her status. Although the silence was not awkward, she decided to break it with a carefully-voiced inquiry she had been brooding over. _

_ "Were you always the commander of the Decepticons? What took you away from Cybertron?" _

_ He lowered his gaze from the empty space he had been staring into, his crimson optics soft. "I was once Lord High Protector of Cybertron and commander of the defense forces. Before that, I was a gladiator in the city of Kaon, a slave." His tone was sad, but also guarded. "I began a revolution against the corrupt government there, forming the Decepticons." _

_ This raised several questions on her part:  _ Why enslave others if you too were once a slave? Was this government actually corrupt, or did you just want a throne? _ Settling for a less-sensitive topic, she said, "A gladiator? That's interesting," she made a show of looking over his body, "Based on your size alone, and the fact that I have yet to see another Decepticon bigger than you," he grinned, "You must have been pretty good." _

_ His smile widened, and he purred "Only the  _ **_best_ ** _ , my dear." _

_ She gave a weak smile and asked, "So what happened that you came here to make Earth your capital?" _

_ Megatron ran a claw through her hair, musing "The revolution destroyed the planet, pet. Not much is left there, and it probably cannot support us." His optics suddenly hardened and his pets became rougher. _

_ Trying to distract him before he injured her, she squeaked out the first thing that came to her mind, "Did you have any siblings?" _

_ He must have heard her panic, because his strokes gentled. "No. I do not even know who my creators were." _

_ "Oh. Creators? Are those like parents?" He nodded, watching her. There was no pressure to his gaze, for once; it was simply a weightless look.  _

_ "Did you have any?" She was startled at his question, not expecting him to actually try to learn about her. She had thought it would be a mostly one-sided conversation. _

_ "Yes, I had a sister." She looked away from him, but a talon turned her back. _

_ "Had, pet?" he inquired quietly, his claw gentle on the fragile skin of the underside of her chin.  _

_ "Her name was Natalie. She was killed when you conquered Chicago." She murmured weakly, a tear slipping down her cheek. His rubies dimmed, and she was cupped in his hand and held against the familiar metal of his chestplates, a finger stroking her back reassuringly. He looked as if he was about to reply when Barricade entered with his report, breaking the focus. _

_ She was quickly set on the pillow between his pedes, and he shot her what might have been called a sympathetic glance, had it been on someone else. There she lay for the duration of the report, silently weeping and hiding her face from Barricade. _

_ When he had finished, he must have seen, because he sneered, "Tears, human? Have you finally been broken?" _

_ The reaction from Megatron was one that scared, surprised, and confused her. He leapt up from his throne, albeit mindful of her body's perilous position, and stomped down the steps towards a terrified and bewildered Barricade. Grabbing the robot around the neck and lifting him easily with a single hand, Megatron growled something in Cybertronian that made Barricade's optics widen. _

_ He proceeded to walk out the massive double doors and Eleanor followed, her curiosity getting the better of her. She watched in awe as the Emperor threw him out, Barricade landing what easily could have been a hundred yards away. _

_ "How-" she was cut off as he plucked her up and pushed her against his cheek, turning and re-entering the throne room. _

_ "Gladiatorial skills, Eleanor," he growled as he nuzzled her. A smile reached his faceplates, "I'm the biggest, remember?" _

Soundwave roused her this time, prodding her side gently. Her optics onlined and she sat up with ease, all traces of pain gone.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, face passive.

"Great actually." She chuckled, "Just peachy."  _ Except for the fact that I'm in a body that isn't mine and I want to be human again. _ Looking up at him, she asked, "I suppose that you are here to give me some more Energon?"

"No," he answered, sitting on the table next to her, "Megatron wants to know if you wish to take a new name."

She thought for a moment, pondering the idea, "Well, I like the name that I have..." she continued more decidedly, "I wish to take the name Eleaniris." She completed the sentence in her head,  _ For I am still the same even if slightly different. _

"A beautiful choice." He surprised her with the compliment and he stood, taking a box out of somewhere, "He also wants you to dress in this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more memories here, but they aren't as fluffy. As there seems to be multiple stories of Megatron's origin, and the fact that is is an AU, I made up my own little background for him using multiple elements from these.  
> I have posted a new story for this same timeline, Skyfall, which details Eleanor's perspective on the day of the Invasion.  
> [Insert plea for reviews here.]


	27. The Declaration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own Star Wars. See Prologue for disclaimer. Brace yourself for the scattered innuendos and curse words.

_I'm_ _ **definitely**_   _going to be a sex slave._

Eleanor - now  _Eleaniris_  - stared at her reflection with contempt. It was still hard to recognize the Cybertronian in the mirror as herself, and the outfit made it even more difficult. She had no clue as to where he had found her getup, or if he even knew the significance of it to pre-Invasion pop culture, but none of that mattered. She  _hated_ it with a strength that she hadn't thought possible for an article of clothing.

The purple fabric almost touched the floor, running from a golden plate that attached over her pelvis. Gilded bands intertwined over her hips and lower back, where a matching "skirt" hung. Only a single string between her legs attaching the pieces of cloth would keep it from billowing when she walked and revealing her backside. The ornate brassiere covered her breast plating, the tiny links of its chain connecting in the middle of her back. Not much of her was left to the imagination in the "slave Leia" costume.

Grace and Susan smiled apologetically behind her, compassion written all over their faces. They had been brought in and had been ordered to wax and polish her shortly after Soundwave had shown her the "clothing." Her metal gleamed like a piece of untarnished, fine silver jewelry.

"What is going to happen to me?" she asked no one in particular for the millionth time, wincing at how broken and weak she sounded.

Susan stepped forward, grasping Eleaniris' shoulders and meeting her gaze through the mirror. "We don't know dear. All we know is that  _this_  - this is  _big_."

Eleaniris brought a hand up to her face, trying to keep from crying. "He's making me into a sex slave, isn't he?" She remembered all of those lustful gazes over the course of the time spent with him, all of the licking and nuzzling, and she supposed that this moment was what he had been building up to. The meetings with Scalpel, Shockwave, and Soundwave must have been working towards this goal, convening to discuss this project.

Soundwave was standing to the side, watching the scene unfold and trying to keep his faceplates from betraying his thoughts. He knew that his master should have told her, should have spoken to her prior to this whole affair. But he supposed it was too late for that now; that what had been decided had been decided. He could not answer her question, for his servos were tied on this matter. His attention was then diverted to a comm. from his leader.

Grace came to her now, reassuringly patting her back. "I don't think so, madame." Eyeing Soundwave out of the corner of her vision, she breathed in Eleaniris' audio, "No matter what happens, you'll always be our President." She caught the optic of her mistress, brown eyes showing her sincerity.

The Decepticon scooped her up abruptly, not giving her a chance to say her goodbye. She waved helplessly at them as the door closed, and she glimpsed briefly the despair that overtook their faces.  _So they do think that I will be a pleasure slave; a royal concubine for the Decepticon Emperor._ She wilted in the robot's palm, not sure how to accept her fate.

The mental voice of President Sherman made a brusque comeback as Soundwave walked through the halls, berating her  _ACCEPT?_   _What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You?_

He turned, heading in a direction that her mental compass told her was the front of the palace.  _You're acting as if there is no one depending on you; as if you have_ _ **given up**_ _._  The voice snarled the words and let them drip with venom as they sank into her mental skin, which had gone numb from months of having  _absolutely_  no control over her life. Someone, namely an colossal conqueror, had made the choices for her: what to eat, what to wear, when and where to sleep, the list was endless.

The fangs of the statement snapped her out of it with all the shock of jumping into the Arctic ocean. She noticed that they were coming to an all-too-familiar pair of massive double doors, and as he set her down and spoke to her Grace's words came back  _"No matter what happens, you'll always be our President."_ Fierce determination filled her grey optics and overcame the despair and fear there, washing them out like a tsunami through a coastal town.

Soundwave's words sounded very far away as she clenched her jaw and thought resolutely,  _I'm still in the middle of my four years as President of the United States of America. Until the clock has run out of time and there is no free election to keep me or oust me_   _ **I will still be President,**_   _no matter_   _ **what**_ _this monster does to me_ _ **.**_

Soundwave finished whatever it was that he had been saying as Eleaniris redirected her attention to him, her stomach sinking as she realized that she might have missed something important. He walked away hurriedly before she could ask him to repeat it, and all she could do was try to shrug it off and hope that it wasn't terribly crucial.

The doors were opened, and President Sherman had a flashback of the same situation she had been in only a few months prior.  _It feels like a lifetime ago now_ , she thought before the President Sherman in her head refocused her.  _You can do this madame President._ She stepped over the threshold and onto the black marble floor that revealed to her a mirror image of her face. Deciding that a chant might help her focus and stay determined like the first time, she began in her head:

_I, Eleanor Sherman, do solemnly swear,_

She raised her head and almost faltered at the sight of the giant standing on the dais. A purple cloak ran down his enormous back, coming to just above his pedes, and he shone like she had never seen before. A curve rose out of his right shoulder joint, adding a bit of elegance and royalty to his frame as well as some more strength to his already dominating aura. Red optics seemed to brighten as she entered, glowing at her with lust and an emotion she didn't recognize. Something else was different about him, but she was far too occupied with keeping her focus to make out what it was.

_that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,_

The jeers and chants of the first gathering were absent this time, replaced by an eerie silence that was only filled with the sound of her little pedes hitting the floor. The towering Cybertronians' heads turned as she passed, watching her. Ravage and Laserbeak were also missing, and there was no one forcing her forward. For a millisecond she thought of turning and running, but knew that it would be no use; one of the guards would easily drag her back disgracefully and plop her into Megatron's palm, probably televising the whole thing.  _Susan was right, this one_ _ **is**_   _big. Surely it is being broadcast live right now, showcasing the mighty President being taken into the worst bondage of all: that of a sex slave_. She focused again.

_and will, to the best of my ability,_

Eleaniris kept her chin up, knowing that she was more than halfway through the long walk now. The oppressive silence was starting to choke her, even though she had no need to breathe anymore. The awareness that something was amiss was starting to catch up to her resolve, and she actually quickened her pace towards the being standing tall on the dais. She didn't want to falter out in the middle of the room, start weeping in front of these monsters and her people.  _Be strong. For your people._

_preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States,_

Megatron watched her walk towards him, venting quietly at the sight. Her little hips did a seductive sway, natural for any femme, and as the skirts swished ad revealed parts of her bare legs he thought he felt his cod piece tighten.

Her optics widened as she took in what she had failed to see before. He looked as if he had gone through a complete remodeling: his already monstrous thighs had been thickened by twice their original size, huge, sharp tank treads went right up to knees, folding in certain spots, and his shoulders looked as if they were more broad. All together, he was more imposing than last time she had seen him - which she had thought  _impossible_  to surpass - and shuddered at the thought of her destiny, written in the lust in his rubies. Assuming the invaders had sex in the same way humans did, and the hand-to-equipment ratio held true...

She was done for. Dead on the spot. She probably wouldn't even feel him enter her, for the act itself would split her in half. These thoughts almost made her fumble, and as she came to the foot of the dais she completed the oath.

_So help me God._

As soon as her pede stopped next to its twin and her rear skirt hit her leg, an enormous cheer almost deafened her as it echoed around the packed chamber. A sense of doom and helplessness consumed her, fearsome determination fizzling out like a candle that had run out of wick. The tyrant bent and the cape rippled, filling her vision as he stooped to pick her up in an enormous hand.

He straightened to his full height, and the roar from the officers grew louder. Smirking, he raised an empty hand and the sound was cut off in such a manner that she wondered if her audio was working still. When he turned his optics to her, the wanton greed there yanked her out of the mental fuzz.

She snapped at him through the quiet, "Will you get this over with already?" Her words bounced off the walls of the room, and she thought that she could hear a pin drop.

His chuckle rose gradually through his chest, slowly growing into a loud laugh as his head leaned back. The force of it shook her, and his army joined in with their own raucous guffaws. "A little eager, aren't we my dear?" he mocked, his fangs glinting as he grinned.

She clenched her jaw until she thought her metal teeth would bend and closed her hands into fists, snarling over the laughter in fury, "I will  _never_  be  _eager_  to become your  _sex toy_!"

That shut them up. All of the soldiers present froze, watching the spectacle unfold. Megatron's laughter died bluntly with it, and he fixed her with a stern stare.

"Did you not listen to what Soundwave told you?" Damn it. She should have payed attention. Never had she regretted something more in her life than she did in that very moment, nestled in the beast's palm. Eleaniris did not answer, and he shook his massive head at her while glancing at a nervous Soundwave standing to his right at the bottom of the dais.

"Besides _ **,**_ you are to  **NEVER** _ **, EVER,**_ _disgrace_ and  _soil_ yourself with such a term. Not in  _ **my**_  presence, not in  **anyone's**." He roared the words at her, his mouth inches from her body, and she fell back in shock.  _Disgrace? Soil?_

"What are you going to do to me then,  _kill me_?" She bit back testily, her optics fiery. Her look was swiftly replaced by one of confusion as the Decepticons laughed once again.

"Have I not been clear, my  _sweet_?" His words were sopping with lust, and she thought she heard a few catcalls and whistles from the masses behind her. He gestured for Soundwave to approach him, and he went on, "All this time, and you have not yet noticed? Not even an  _inkling_?"

Unconsciously, she furrowed her optic ridges and cocked her head at him, clearly conveying that she did not understand.

Elsewhere, the truth was beginning to dawn on Burns, Wilson, Simmons, and Lennox. "This is what Jasmine warned us about," Burns said in despair, crumpling to his knees in front of the assembled hall full of Nation workers. The four watched as the silver robot reached his much larger leader, and Burns murmured, "Grace and Susan told us, too." The weeping started, and the crowd thought but none dared to say,  _How blind were we to this, to never see it coming?_

Megatron chuckled softly, stroking her head once. Taking the objects that Soundwave offered, he turned her in his palm to face the audience and lifted her above him, shouting triumphantly, "I, Megatron, Supreme Commander and sole ruler of the Decepticon Empire, declare this femme, Eleaniris, Queen of the Decepticons!"

Time seemed to slow down. The cheers faded away as reality hit her like a truck. Well, perhaps it was more akin to being smacked with a planet.

She had seriously distrusted her judgement in the "romance arena" most of her entire life, and the fact that James told her he didn't love her had worsened it to the point where she couldn't see his advances on her.  _Was I really so insensitive? So absolutely ignorant?_

The tracker, meant to watch her and keep her safe while he made preparations and gathered her supplies, all in her favorite color...

The gentleness under penalty of  _death_...

The refusal to execute her, to instead keep her under the guise of a pet...

The very,  _very_  expensive clothing; she hadn't seen the same Fantasy Bra twice...

The location of her old stylists and friends, and the absolute  _luxury_  she lived in: Netflix, warm baths, every fathomable scent for cleansing, makeup, hot and delicious food, clean clothing and silk sheets every day...

The piano, roses, chocolates, pearls...

The fury with her attempted rapists, with Starscream at having hurt her sides, with Barricade for insulting her...

Her lack of actual, serious punishment for her escape attempt and mouthing off. He never made a mark on her himself, his claws always gentle and careful...

The trips that she now knew were really dates, the comfort of his warm and enormous holoform, agreeing to watch Netflix with her...

The lust in his optics from the  _very beginning_ , his  _licking_ , his  _purrs_ , his  _nuzzling_  and  _caress_...

All leading to this very moment.

A cloak identical to his but smaller was clipped around her shoulders. A silver crown shaped  _exactly_ like the regal protrusions on his own head was presented to her, the diamonds gleaming brilliantly. She remembered the collar, and had a hunch that those diamonds were one and the same.

She could see the mouths of the sea of robots open in shouts of glee, but the only sound that reached her audio inputs was the click of the crown sliding into place on top of her head. Her hearing came back just in time to make out his boom, "I present to you Empress Eleaniris of the Decepticon Empire!"

Wilson covered his face with his hands, openly sobbing into them at his failure. It was because of his ineptitude that she was sitting in that  _monstrosity's_  palm, basically being declared his bride.  _I'm so sorry, Eleanor. We were not enough; we were never enough._

Simmons stared in awe at the screen, completely frozen and for once without a crude comment. Lennox threw something at the wall, where it shattered and fell to the floor.

Susan hugged a crying Grace as they watched the screen in the medbay, where they had been left to watch their President be crowned a Queen.

Gasps sounded from the chapped lips of slaves all over the globe, the hope of humanity crushed as they saw their former leader, now transformer, named their oppressor's mate. Somehow it was more degrading, more demeaning, than her being made a pet. They watched, waited for a message from the insurgency, but none came. The signal was cut, and laughing supervisors ordered the disheartened slaves back to their shelters.

Megatron lowered her, pushing her into his new, larger chestplates and announcing rapturously, "Let the celebration begin!"

He sat down upon his throne, setting her in his lap. The Emperor watched as the barrels of high-grade Energon were brought in and the mechs split into groups, talking amongst themselves.

Eleaniris looked down, feeling an unfamiliar texture underneath her fingertips. She would have blushed crimson if she was still human, lifting her palm from the loincloth-shaped groin plating. In his current position the metal was pointing towards his knees, narrowing down to a sharp point. She gulped, trying to move off the piece and onto one of his enormous thighs. She gave a little shiver at the thought of what lay underneath that metal sheet, and immediately directed her thoughts elsewhere.

That wasn't hard to do, considering that she was running on system overload and could really only stay afloat by taking each of Megatron's "surprises" this evening one at a time. She was terribly angry and upset, but a part of her was a  _little_  flattered. Never had any man gone this far out of his way for her and treated her with such kindness. The other, larger part tried to attack this sentiment for being accommodating towards the enemy, but the feeling still stood.  _Yell at him! Scream your displeasure! If you don't you are giving in to the monster that enslaved your people and killed your friends._

 _No, I'm not,_ the smaller part argued back,  _He has escalated this battle between flesh and metal by making you his Queen. Maybe you should elevate your own strategy, by picking and choosing your battles. Besides, surely there is no better position for a rebel leader than on the inside?_

Conflicted, all she could do was sit on his left thigh indecisively.

The Emperor felt movement on his loins, looking down to see his Empress shyly moving to one of his thighs.  _Cute._ Remembering the surgery, he bent down and asked lowly, "What do you think of my improvements, precious?"

The Empress peered up at him, stammering, "W-well, I think that they make you look bigger, more impressive maybe..."

"Good," he growled, "They were made with you in mind, as well as a few other  _alterations_  that you have yet to lay your optics on."

He laughed at the wide, innocent optics shining up at him. They were interrupted as a robot "coughed," and both heads swiveled to look at the Decepticon bowing at the bottom of the dais. "My Lord, I have brought a gift for my new Empress, if I may present it to her."

Eleaniris watched Soundwave carefully. Megatron shifted her towards his knee were she could see better, pushing her easily with a digit down his thigh, and gave Soundwave the go-ahead.

Soundwave took his arms from behind his back and held out a creature to her, dipping his helm as he did so. She watched as it unfurled its wings to reveal its body, squeaking at her adorably. She gasped, accepting the gift from Soundwave and placing the little gryphon in her lap. It nudged at her belly, and for a split second the purple optics made her forget about the Coronation and Cyberformation.

"Thank you, Soundwave. Your gift is very much appreciated." She murmured, observing the little creature. Her wings stretched and flapped, the metal reflecting slightly different colors, a sheen over the plain silver.  _Like the Aurora Borealis._

"You are very gracious, my Queen." Soundwave dipped his head respectfully, but Eleaniris flinched at his reminder. "She is not yet fully grown, but I anticipate that she should reach her final upgrade within a week or so."

She smiled at him, and Soundwave felt a little bit of admiration in his spark for her. His master had chosen wisely indeed. Seeing that there was a small queue of mechs forming behind him, he gave a final bow and growled to his Emperor in Cybertronian, " _The items you requested have been delivered to your quarters, my liege."_

Eleaniris carefully guarded her expression, hackles raising at his words. She had no time for consideration as the next officer moved forward, taking a knee and presenting her with his own tribute. The line proceeded, and the pile at the side of the throne grew large as the last few came forward.

Blackout, the helicopter that she remembered as having cut down her soldiers with ease, had presented her with a case of human-sized bottles of "high grade Energon", which Megatron explained was like alcohol for their race.  _I'll be needing this,_ she thought as she plastered on a fake smile for a Cybertronian she hated.

The last came forward, and with distaste she realized it was Barricade. He bowed dramatically, but she saw the glint in his optic. She had suspected that not many of the Decepticons knew who she had been before and simply liked her for making their master happy, but he definitely knew and hated her for it. Moving his hand from behind his back, he showed her a struggling, tiny robot, dangling carelessly from a small ankle.

"A drone to do with as you please, my  _lady_." She accepted the little thing into her arms, and she saw Megatron start to scold Barricade for an unsuitable gift. Eleaniris held up a hand, and the Emperor silenced and watched her curiously.

"I accept your gift,  _Barricade_." she spat his name as if it disgraced her mouth.

The Decepticon bowed and, in an effort to regain some of his favor with his master - whom Eleaniris made displeased with her own hate of him - growled in Cybertronian, " _May she bring great honor upon your Empire with the many sparklings she will bear, my lord._ " He turned on his heel and left, going over to a random crowd of conversing Decepticons.  _Sparkli-Oh my God._

Knowing that nothing could be said about something she wasn't supposed to know, she looked at the blue drone in her arms. He peered up at her with red optics, terrified. "What is your name?" she asked gently, smiling softly to encourage him.

"Wheelie, my Queen." She tsked, shaking her head and setting him down on the plating next to her.

" _Eleaniris_  will do just fine, Wheelie." She studied him, seeing that he had tires on his skinny frame, two on his arms and two next to his pedes. "What do you transform into?" she inquired, observing that he was still frightened of her if his tensed limbs had anything to do with it. The gryphon, who she had named Borealis, chirped and settled into her lap as a puppy would.

"Do you really want to see?" he asked, his shock evident in his tone and body language, the little optic ridges rising.

She nodded, smiling at him gently. He was really no harm to her, and he was even a little cute.

He puffed up his chest proudly and his metal rearranged itself into a remote-controlled blue truck. He shifted again, and his robot form reappeared. He bent with a flourish, and Eleaniris chuckled.

Megatron watched from above, pleased to see his Queen happy, though he wished that she might coo and smile so adorably at  _him_. Soundwave handed the Emperor a cube of high-grade Energon, and the warlord plucked Eleaniris up and placed her on his groin plating against his abdomen. Wheelie didn't dare follow her, knowing how angry the master was that he was even  _touching_  him.

She tried to crawl away again but his hands stopped her. Sighing in defeat, Eleaniris gestured for him to come to her, the gryphon nestled in her lap. With a glance up at the tyrant, Wheelie crept along his thigh and settled against his hip, getting as close as he thought possible without inviting the legendary wrath of the Supreme Commander.

She sighed, understanding his hesitancy. She let him be, and Megatron lowered a cube of Energon to her, explaining "High-grade Energon, my dear. Would you like to try some?"

Complying because of her lack of options, she took a tentative sip from the huge cube, sputtering almost immediately at the incredibly bitter taste. He smirked and raised it to his own lips, taking a gulp that would have filled her tanks twice over. "Too strong, precious?" She nodded, still gagging, and he chuckled and stroked her bare belly repeatedly with a careful talon. With his other hand he gestured to a passing drone to bring over its tray, and selected several Energon treats for her.

"How about these?" She took three, giving one to Wheelie and the other to Borealis. Wheelie was very cautious to accept, eyeing Megatron's expression.

"Ignore him," she mouthed and Wheelie gave her a look before he listened, popping it into his mouth. She smiled and took her own bite, humming at the taste. It was sweet, almost like a hard candy. He gave her the rest and took her up in his palm, holding her close to his maw.

The tongue made its appearance, and his optics glowed with lust as they watched her like a lion would a mouse. Hastily she threw the handful of treats into his mouth, and he chuckled and licked at the side of her face affectionately. She grimaced and he set her down on his groin again. Eleaniris looked up at him with disgust as she wiped at her face, and his grin widened while she thought she heard something click under the plating she was sitting upon.

Abruptly the lights were dimmed, and the Decepticons moved to clear a space in the center of the floor. The massive doors opened and a supervisor led in several female human slaves, each with either a black or purple skimpy leotard and a ribbon of the same color. They took up a position in the middle of the crowd, holding their ribbons high.  _Ribbon dancers? Really?_

Eleaniris almost face-palmed herself but stopped in her tracks when she saw one of them look at her. Their gazes locked for an instant and she saw the fear, despair, helplessness, and a little distrust there. The music started, seemingly coming from everywhere, and the women moved in perfect sync. She watched them with a glaze over her optics, deep in thought.

_They've given up on you. All of your people just saw you crowned, and they think their fate has been sealed. They think you have abandoned them._

"Why did you do this to me?" she whimpered, reality finally settling into her head. He had changed her, refused to see her for a week, and then made her his Queen. She stroked the dog-sized gryphon in her lap who curled up even tighter and shuttered its optics.

Megatron saw her distress, as well as the coolant starting to leak from her optics, when he heard her little voice. "What's wrong, precious? Is there something you don't like?", he murmured, bending to look at her better.

She moved Borealis from her lap and onto the plating, much to the gryphon's chagrin. She stood and looked at him, exasperated, "Are you for real? Do you really have no clue?" Borealis chirped and nudged her mistress' lower leg, but received no attention.

He shook his head, watching her with soft red optics. He picked up Wheelie and Borealis and set them on the arm of his throne before scooping her up and standing. He made his way quickly through the crowd to one of the side doors, stepping into the hallway. When the door clicked shut, he stared down at her and asked worriedly, "Are you ill?"

She laughed. Actually laughed at his cluelessness, and she was aware of how utterly  _insane_  it sounded. "You conquer my world and enslave my race, executing my friends and killing my sister in the process."

She watched him with her grey optics, seeing understanding finally show itself. "Then you take me as a  _pet_  when you finally capture me. You treat me like a pet sometimes and then like a sex slave in others. I have no idea of where I stand with you because of your mixed signals, and then you have me transformed against my will into one of  _you_ , the race that stole billions of lives and ended a billion others. You took away  _everything_  from me, and then you take the last thing I have left: my  **humanity**."

Eleaniris was shaking with fury, tears running like a river down her cheeks, "After you're done with that, you leave me for a week and all I ever see is Soundwave or Shockwave, but they can't say anything about where you are or why you did this. I am resigned to think that you have tired of me, that you don't care what happens to me. I am left to think about whatever it was that I did wrong to deserve it, left to think that I will be a sex slave."

Megatron's optics grew softer as he raised her closer to his face, but she was not yet finished. "You then have me dressed like a  _slut_  and taken into your throne room, where you crown me your Queen. All televised so that the human race can see what I have become: a formerly-admirable woman made into a  _breeding machine_  for the very monster that enslaved them." She remembered Barricade's words and sighed, "You have made your political move and I hope that you are  _happy_  with it." She turned on her heel away from him, crossing her arms.

He was shocked. For the first time in vorns he was almost without words.  _Almost._

He spun her and began "Know this, Eleaniris: Your coronation was very deliberate, planned to the last detail. If you were merely a  _political tool_ **or**  a  _breeding machine_ ," he spat the words and the hand holding her shook with anger, "you would already be in my berth, moaning my name. There would be no gifts, no party given in your honor, no crown nor cape. Besides, do I need to make a show for a race that I have  _already_  conquered?"

Flabbergasted, she barely managed to hold onto his hand. "No. The human race is under my  _complete control_. All of this was given to you because I care for you, my dear. All of it." He brought her close to his faceplates, nuzzling her. "I did not visit you because I wanted to surprise you, to make you feel very honored and special."

"You could have at  _least_  told me that I wasn't going to be your  _fuck toy_! I was left wondering for an entire  **week**  what you had planned!"

Megatron sighed, reining in his anger over her term, "But  _now_  you know. You will  _never_  be that."

"You expect me to love you, don't you?" She cried out, pushing herself away from his cheek, "You shackle my people and constantly remind me of how much you  _despise_  them with your cruel treatment, and then you expect me to  **love**  you for it?"

She glowered at him, "No matter how kind you have been to me, you have treated my race like  _animals_. I  _cannot_  love you."

"You will learn to," he growled ominously, turning to enter the throne room once again.  _No, I won't. Love is a choice._

When he set her down in his lap - thankfully keeping her on his thigh - the ribbon dancers finished with their performance with a dramatic swell of music. The same robot who had brought them in escorted them out. The lights, which had already been dimmed, turned off completely. The only source of illumination was the faint grey light of the moon through the drapes of the high windows.

Spotlights switched on and suddenly focused on three female robots, all her size and very  _human_  in appearance. She cocked her head at them as Wheelie came to sit beside her and Borealis settled in her own lap. They were as scantily clothed as she was, if not more so. As they began their dance to the catcalls and lewd shouts from the crowd, she chewed on her metal her lip in thought.

_If he cares about me like he says he does, he wouldn't put me through that dangerous procedure if he was not absolutely sure of the outcome. He met with the three S's multiple times a month, and those were the same ones that were present when he cyberformed me._

A terrifying thought struck her, made the Energon in her veins freeze.  _Test subjects. They were talking about test subjects. And I would bet my last piece of humanity that those are the successful ones._

Turning her head back to look at him, she found that he was already watching her with unreadable optics and ignoring the dancers, who must have been very sexy based on the amount of lustful calls. The dance was coming to an end, and to her horror she saw several Decepticons ready themselves to grab one when they were finished. Many of those had chains and wanton desire burned in their red optics.

Eleaniris didn't know what possessed her in that moment, but she stood and walked over his thigh to his massive abdominal plating. Resting her hand on the new metal there, she raised her head and asked quietly, "Please, don't make them into a brothel."

Megatron shook his head, plucking her up and holding her to his face, "Would that make you happy?" She nodded, leaning the side of her head on one of his fingers.

He couldn't help but admire her strength. So merciful and kind, like his Circuitsia was. Although he would freely admit to being a ruthless conqueror with plenty of Energon and blood on his servos, he still wanted his Queen to be gentle.  _She will be a wonderful mother to my sparklings._

Taking a claw he traced the spikes of the crown, made to look like a mirror image of his own protrusions. "Consider it done." the smile on her face made his spark throb, "But I want a kiss."

Neither of them noticed that the music had stopped as she placed a reluctant, chaste peck on one of his check rims, and the officers roared in approval.

 _This is war_ , Eleaniris thought, almost smirking cynically at the irony of her pun,  _Today, Operation Exodus begins._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzers. Long chapter.
> 
> Reviews keep the god of unfinished stories at bay!


	28. The Cuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Mature scene with dubious consent towards the end.

 

Their optics locked, Megatron's soft with affection and Eleaniris' hard with determination.

A scream caught her audio, and she whipped around to see one of the Decepticons already having grabbed a femme. She was pushed up against the much larger Cybertronian's chest, her face being smothered by hungry lips.

"Megatron..." she whispered, and had to clap her hands over her audio receptors at his roar.

"Bonecrusher!  **Put. The. Slave. Down.** " His words carried ultimate authority that made the rest of the officers suddenly stand at attention and the Decepticon in question, mouth hanging open in surprise, dropped the woman unceremoniously to the marble. She gave a little cry and scampered back to her companions, joining them in the center of the floor.

Setting her, Wheelie, and Borealis on the arm of his throne, the Emperor stood on his massive pedes, the purple cloak rippling royally. "These three slaves  **will not**  be touched. Anyone who is found disobeying this order," he swept the room with stern crimson optics, "will be severely punished for their actions." Eleaniris gazed up at his towering form, Wheelie almost hugging her lower leg in fear. Megatron felt his Queen's gaze and saw an opportunity, puffing up his chestplates only slightly and casually widening his stance to make himself appear even larger. The females walked out quickly, going out one of the side exits with Soundwave.

The throne room was silent for a moment, Megatron making sure he had been heard. He nodded slowly, satisfied with the knowledge that his Empress was happy.

He scooped her up without warning, grinning at his army, "Now, my Queen and I have other  _activities_  planned for tonight." She gasped, mortification plastered on her face as the sound of lewd laughter at his innuendo echoed off the walls. He turned to look down at her, lust the dominant emotion in his hungry look. "You are dismissed."

The group saluted in unison, making her flinch as they cried out "All hail Megatron!" As he turned to leave, plucking up Wheelie and Borealis as an afterthought, what she saw in the faceplates of his men shook her to the core.

They were all green with envy, jealously looking at their warlord and eyeing her body simultaneously while Shockwave started herding them out.

"Please, you can't do this," she begged in his servo, glancing at the expansive groin plating nervously.

"Relax, Eleaniris. It is not going to be what you think it will be." He brushed off her comment, dumping the drone and the gryphon into the hand holding her before stroking her head with a finger.

"Oh really? And what else could you have meant with that little  _statement_  back there?" Wheelie's optics grew wide at her testiness, his mouth opening to warn her. She ignored him, keeping her optics up on Megatron.

"Plenty of things, precious." He was walking fast, strides eating up the ground at an alarming pace up to his apartment.

"Like what?" she interrogated as he ascended the final flight of stairs. He made the palace seem so small when we was holding her, what with the speed of his walk.

"I have not yet presented my own gift to you." Eleaniris shuddered in disgust, her body tensing at the potential meaning of his answer.

"I-I'll pass, t-thanks." He chuckled softly and stroked her again as the guards opened the doors.

"You shouldn't refuse what you have no knowledge of, my  _chocolate_." Megatron was quite impressed with the new pet name, liking the feel of it on his glossa.  _She tastes like one, too,_ he thought lasciviously. Eleaniris, however, was repulsed, scowling at it.

She fully expected him to just throw her on the couch and force himself on her - which wouldn't be hard for him, considering how far he had tossed Barricade - but instead the silver giant turned and entered the office. Leaving her and her companions on the massive desk, he tapped in the code for the weapons room and went inside, disappearing from view.

Wheelie touched her leg tentatively and she dipped her head to look at him. The blue drone opened his mouth as if to say something but appeared to reconsider it as Megatron walked back in, closing his jaw hastily with a click.

Eleaniris watched him place a golden box on the desk in front of her, cocking her head. "Open it," he said lightly with an eager smile on his face, earnestly gesturing for her to come over.

Her hands ran over the alien engravings on the top, runes taking a second for her to read.  _"_ It says Eleaniris in Cybertronian, my dear." She jerked her head up at the red optics, now level with her own and bathing her body with russet light.

He had crouched down, probably on his knees, and was regarding her with a strange look in his rubies. It was gentle, not like the raging lust she had seen before, although traces of that remained. It was that strange emotion again, one she could not even begin to name.

The Empress found the latch and released it, gasping at the sight. "I had them resized just for you, my Queen." The twin daggers gleamed dangerously, now her size, displayed next to the sheaths meant to house them.

"Wow." Her tone was one of awe as she set the weighty, gilded box on the desktop and knelt, picking up a dagger carefully. Her hand curved around the hilt just right, and she noticed that the runes had been changed from the first time, now showing the word she recognized as her name. The knife was light, balanced perfectly, about half the length of her forearm.

She was too busy admiring them to notice his proud look as he said, "I will show you how to use them later. I also believe that I have not yet shown you the training room, and you could use some fighting practice." She nodded absently, fascinated with the blade and yelping as his claws pulled her and the box closer to him.

"These," he instructed, indicating the casings, "are made to attach to the inside of your lower legs." He selected one and pushed it lightly into the side of her bare right calf. It clicked, molding perfectly with her leg and feeling very comfortable. She flexed the cabling in her leg, marveling at the exact fit.

He took the other knife from its place, sliding it precisely into the sheath. She felt it latch, securing it there. Mimicking his movements, she did the same with the other dagger and case. Walking to test it, she found that they did not rub at all nor did they impede her natural gait; oddly enough, their weight did not affect her at all.

"How did you get these to fit so precisely?" He smiled gently at the wonder in her voice, lightly running a finger down her back and making her shiver.

"I have my ways," he answered coyly, mischievous smirk replacing his smile.

"Oh-kay..." she drug the single syllable out into two, unnerved at the ambiguous reply.  _He uses that line_ _ **way**_ _too much._ Changing the subject, she turned to the orbs and asked, "What now?"  _Please, no sex. I really don't want to die that way._

He appeared to think for a moment, and she practically saw the lightbulb come on above his head. Snatching her and her companions up in a single hand, he briskly left the office and dropped Wheelie and Borealis nonchalantly onto the coffee table of the main space. "Recharge," he ordered sternly, and the tiny blue drone nodded vigorously before practically throwing himself down. It prompted her to recall how much power he had; the sheer amount of fear he inspired in his subordinates.

_She sat in his hand, the leash clipped to her collar. She knew by now that it was only for show; only to placate his forces, who hated humans and thought them vile animals barely a step above bacteria (he seemed to think so too, as she had witnessed with slaves, but not of her for some reason). He would always take it off as soon as possible, promising a trip or a treat for her obedience. It made her contemplate just why she was so quick to roll over for him, why she did not fight such a demeaning act regardless of whether he meant it or not._

_She supposed it was because she had nothing to gain and plenty to lose. If he killed her because he was tired of her being too stubborn, Nation would be completely blind. She was a valuable asset, even though she knew it was a fight they would most surely be crushed in. Regardless, it was better to die honorably fighting for a cause that one believed in than to die a captive slave - or pet, in her case._

_What should have upset her more, at any rate, was the fact that she felt undeniably_ safe  _with him. She should hate him, despise him for the billion humans that died in the three days of the Invasion and the billions of others that groveled at his feet like animals._

_Megatron approached the command room of the European slave camp, and when he entered all stood and saluted stiffly. Several shook in his presence, obviously fearing a beating from their titanic leader. He set her down on a table and she sat, knowing a human that was not noticed was a healthy one. It didn't matter if he would protect her, for if one of the robots decided to swat at her or try to "play" with her and he had no opportunity to save her, there was a good chance that she would perish._

_One at the station she was at looked up from his slim monitor, elbowing one of his comrades and pointing at her, snickering. Without warning he plucked her up in claws that held her far too tightly, cutting off her air supply. She gasped, evidently drawing attention to her chest with the motion. The Decepticon holding her ran a finger over the bare top of one of her heaving breasts, pushing lightly, and she used her last bit of oxygen to squeak. It was a horribly embarrassing sound, but it was better than being fingered._

_Megatron whipped around from the data pad he had been looking at, his optics flaring with anger when he saw the groping. He barked something that instilled silence in the room and made all of the robots freeze in their tracks, not excluding her tormentors. Their optics grew wide, glancing at each other in terror._

_He walked over and enveloped the wrist of the hand holding her with his much larger one, squeezing effortlessly. She heard metal crumple and groan and he screeched in pain as she flinched at the sounds, his hand forced to open and letting her fall. She clenched her eyes shut, expecting a very hard landing, but found herself in a familiar, grey palm instead._

_He held her to his chestplates which she promptly curled her fingers around, feeling much more secure. Though she did despise him with a passion too strong for words, he did protect her._

_Even if she was only an object, a symbol of the broken back of humanity._

_His boom sent the others scurrying back to work, and he used his ped to forcefully kick the much smaller, offending bot out into the hallway._

_The Emperor literally ripped into him, completely crushing the already ruined wrist and severing the hand from the drone. He lowered his faceplates to the subordinate's, roaring at the pained face with a fervor that made her cower. He turned abruptly and left, the Cybertronian collecting his limb from the floor and running to what she presumed was the medbay. He left a trail of Energon behind, and she shivered at how easily Megatron had inflicted damage._

_He finally remembered her, sensors picking up her movements against the plating of his chest. Nuzzling her with his cheek, he let out a purr that would have put a hundred lions to shame. It was all she could do to let him have his touch, albeit sensual for a pet. It was all she could do to wonder at how he could change his mood so quickly for a member of a race that he was supposed to hate._

The sound of the washroom door opening brought Eleaniris out of her reverie, and she readied herself to be set down outside her own bathroom. Casting her optics over the spot, she blanched when she saw it empty. It was as if the room had never been there, and he continued through the door that led to his own "washrack."

The panel hissed shut and she gasped in awe.  _What is with him and marble?_

The floor, as was the pattern in his suites, was a white, crisp marble that reflected the light of the moon streaming from the floor-to-ceiling windows. An enormous tub - roughly half the size of an Olympic pool - sat in the center, sunken into the floor, a seat running along the walls of it. Pillars stood around it, covered in jewels, supporting a decorative roof over the bath from which sheer purple and black drapes hung. She noticed a long, huge shower in the corner, and the walls held various glass cabinets full of huge bottles and large towels of all sizes and types.

He walked over to the empty tub, bending and selecting several options on the touch screen to the side. Eleaniris read the symbols perfectly well, recognizing them as  _temperature_ ,  _amount,_ and - strangely enough -  _lighting._ Thinking it best to act uninformed, she asked innocently "What are you doing?"

Megatron gave that sly smile again and replied mysteriously as he set her down next to the edge, "You'll see. Now, stay there. I'll be right back." He left an uneasy Empress in the washroom, heading to pick up the box Soundwave had had delivered to his apartments. It was sitting on the large table of the main space, put there by a messenger drone. What it contained was far more complex than what the simple, metal container betrayed.  _These had better work_.

Picking it up and seeing her drone and the gryphon creature already in recharge, he returned to his Queen and made sure to activate the soundproof settings of his berthroom and washrack.  _We'll need those later,_ he thought with the ghost of a lewd smirk.

Eleaniris watched the tub fill, so mesmerized she did not hear him enter. A cool, sky-blue light appeared to emanate from under the slight overhangs of the edges, sliding down the walls of the pool and causing a glowing effect which was accentuated by the steam that came off the rising top in transparent clouds. As far as she could tell it was being filled from the bottom, easily 30 feet down.

The Emperor set the box and a massive stack of ivory towels to the side of the tub, making her jump. She wheeled around to look at him and as she opened her mouth he grinned and raised a hand, flicking her with a single digit into the water - or whatever it was. Reflexively she tried to breathe in air, but the inability to do so made her recall her new, metal body.

And that metal, as does all heavy materials, sinks.

Desperately she tried to return to the surface, sweeping her hands in long strokes from over her head to her sides. She tried to supplement this by kicking with her legs, but it was futile; she was going nowhere, and the skirts weren't helping. She crossed her arms and glared up at him, letting herself hit the floor. She didn't need to breathe anyway.

Megatron chuckled lightly, stepping into the tub after her and being mindful of her location. Bending, he swooped her up in a servo and brought her up, snickering at her miffed expression as the solvent ran off her. "I thought you could swim?"

"I did, when I was  _ **human**_." She enunciated the word clearly, raising her voice to make her point. "Speaking of being human, I would  _like_  to be changed back." Her optics met his, fiery and determined, and her words came across as an order.

He took orders from no one.

"Eleaniris," he began dangerously, " **never**  use that tone with me.  _You_  may be my Queen," she flinched at the reminder, unconsciously leaning away from his close and angry faceplates, "but  _I_  am the Emperor.  _I_  am Megatron, the commander of the most formidable force in the universe.  _I_ take orders from  _no one_."

The President held up a hand, deciding to surrender and approach from a different front. "I apologize." He remained silent, his optics narrowed, before leaning back and reclining against the side of the tub.

He ran a talon over her head, going from behind the crown to the start of her neck, and rumbled "I accept, but know that if you  _ **ever**_  speak to me like that again there  _will_  be consequences." She nodded, lowering her gaze and knowing that the "consequences" would not be for her, but for an unlucky human slave.

He softened, glad that another argument hadn't arisen to ruin the plans for the night.  _Yet_.

Placing a claw under her chin he forced her to look up at him, anticipating that she would not take the next news well. "Besides, there is no way to make you human again. The process you underwent is irreversible." He almost sounded apologetic, but she could still see that he clearly did not get it.

Tears - or whatever these  _fiends_  called them - welled up in her optics, slipping down her cheeks and hitting the liquid below, making little rings that spread out across the pool. The word  _irreversible_  echoed off the walls of her brain, getting louder and louder and faster and faster.

She would be stuck like this until the day she died, whenever that was. Considering how little she knew about her new body, it could be several  _thousands_  of years.

"Why?" she whispered. He cocked his head to the side and let out a cooing sound, moving to cup her against the side of his face.

"This body has plenty of new abilities a human's wouldn't." Remembering some of the cultural norms he had come across in his research before he had caught her, he added lightly "You don't even have to diet."

She snorted, shaking her head at his pathetic attempt to soothe her. "I don't think you'll ever understand. Just leave me be."

He held her for a moment longer before reluctantly placing her on his thigh. It was slightly submerged under the cleaning solvent, as he was on the bench, and she let herself cry silently. He stroked her back, trying to calm her, but to no avail. Considering the implied "consequences" she did not fight him, for someone else would pay. Eventually she settled down, knowing that tears would change nothing except make her  _more_  miserable than she was already.

She shuttered her optics and laid down on his mammoth leg, soaking in the warm liquid. It really was... nice. The heat seemed to have the same effect on her new body as it did on her human one, relaxing the tension in her wires and circuitry.

Megatron watched her melt on his plating, smiling at the sight. She looked incredibly ravishing, bathed in the blue glow, her long legs stretched out languidly. His grin widened a little more when he glimpsed the gleam of one of the dagger sheaths on the inside of a leg. He lowered his helm, rubbing her body with his nasal ridge. Even as he was being gentle, her body rocked lightly with the motion. She gave a little grunt and pushed at him weakly, still upset about the permanency of her transformation.

He mistook it for a moan and didn't feel the lust overtake him as his glossa slipped out and ran the side length of her body, brushing one of the wet skirts to the side and baring her aft. Revving his engine, he let his glossa stroke over her belly and he sighed at her taste.  _My chocolate..._

Eleaniris let him do as he pleased, knowing that there was nothing she could do to stop him. He had said he was the commander of the most powerful army in the universe, so who could? All she could do was try to ignore it, pretend that it was his hand and not his tongue stroking her. That falsehood shattered when he became more insistent in his lapping and moved, to her adamant displeasure, from her stomach to her  _posterior_.

His electronic purring roared in her ears, and he turned her on her back with an effortless flick of a finger. The Emperor's optics were glazed with lust and he sat back to gaze at her like a predator would its prey. "Gorgeous," he growled, leering at her.

She heard another click from his groin plating, and in sheer terror screamed, "It won't fit!  _Please_ , stop!"

His chuckle unsettled her to no end as he answered, "No. It most certainly  _won't_ , my dear. Surely it would kill you, and I don't want  _that_." She relaxed marginally at his admission, hoping feebly  _Perhaps he will back off?_

A wanton grin spread over his face, and he reached for the box he had set aside earlier. Opening it, he removed a large, shackle-like cuff and locked it around an enormous wrist. Moving to another, shallower bench, he activated the "subspace mass distributor" and allowed it to subspace some of the mass of his body with a single flash of light that lasted for a nanoklik.

Eleaniris gasped, staring at the much smaller Megatron clutching her. "It will now," he said huskily, lust showing itself in his stance.

He was still taller than her by a foot and a half or so, his chest twice as wide as her own and palms bigger than her head; the thought of what he was going to do next made her fear heighten to more than anything that had happened so far. Even being caught and forced across his throne room in a ripped white skirt and blouse had paled in comparison to the impending rape she was about to face.

He turned and leaned her against the side of the tub, moving his still-huge hands so they grasped her hips firmly. He practically tore away the plating and attached skirts, which made a clanking sound as they bounced across the marble floor. His moan at the sight of her interface panel made her squirm under his gaze, but he paid no heed as he heatedly kissed the belly above it.  _At last..._

Eleaniris writhed, screaming and hitting him with no effect. He didn't even flinch from her attacks as he ripped away the skirts. She was about to be raped by this monster that took everything from her; her  _people_ , her  _planet_ , her  _dignity_ , her  _pride_ , her  _honor_ , her  _friends_ , her  _sister_ , her  _humanity_...

And she knew her sanctity was next on his grotesque, cruel chopping block.

Reaching down, he was about to release his spike when one of her shrieks finally reached him. "Did you save me from  _ **rapists**_  so you could  _ **rape**_  me yourself?!"

He jumped back from her as if burned, the solvent sloshing around his thighs. Eleaniris tried to meld into the wall, and his optics lost all trace of the lust in them. "I  _never_ ,  _ **ever**_ , will  _rape_ my sparkmate."He spat the word as if it was a rotten piece of meat, his rubies bright with rage and tinged, just slightly, with  _hurt_.

Megatron pressed another button on the cuff and regained his old size with a flash of white light, getting out of the tub and not bothering to dry off before shaking the ground with his footsteps on his way out the door. Eleaniris shuttered her optics in the bath and cried again at her close encounter, too busy to wonder why a murder and ruthless conqueror - the most powerful being in the  _universe_  and commander of a  _billion_  Decepticons - wouldn't cross that line.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think with a little review! I am but a poor beggar, and reviews are coins in my hat!


	29. The Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Megatron growled, detaching his soaked cape and tossing it onto the berth. He stalked out the doors, projecting his "don't-disturb-me" aura and going up to the roof. He transformed and took off, going as fast as he could as if he could burn away some of his anger. He was insulted that she thought so little of him, would expect him to do such a  _dishonorable_  act.

Eleaniris cried until there were no more tears to give, and she removed herself from the tub and went to the stack of towels. Pulling one off the top with some effort, she patted dry and tried to squeeze as much water out of her skirts and cape as she could. Once she had managed to reattach her pelvic plates, she left the bathroom via the smaller human-sized doors and entered the berthroom.

As she had suspected, the old coffee table was gone and had been replaced with a single-leveled one exactly like the table in the main space. Shaking her head dismally, she made her way past the large berth and was about to leave when she saw a gleam. Turning to face the berth, she made out that some of her belongings were on the top of the right nightstand.  _Good God, really?_

Not wanting to give herself an opportunity to dwell on the meaning of this action, Eleaniris entered the main space and tried to push the sight out of her mind. She had decided that staying here and waiting for him to return was a bad idea, and instead she should try to find someplace else to sleep and face him in the morning. Seeing Wheelie and Borealis recharging on the table, she smiled and walked to the large doors quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

She knocked, and one of the massive, engraved doors was opened for her to walk through. The guards watched her quizzically, having just seen their Lord march out. Truly they wondered why she was still online, for anyone who had angered the warlord so before was on the scrap pile the next breem. Knowing it was not their place to question such matters, they only watched her walk down the corridor to the stairs.

There was really only one robot she trusted and found safe, but a large staircase stood between her and him.  _Now's the time to find out how good my shocks are_ , she thought as she slid off the top stair. Landing smoothly and on her pedes, she repeated the process and found herself in the next hallway, uninjured. Finding the right door, she raised her hand and rapped lightly.  _If he's recharging, I'm out of luck_.

She only waited a moment before there was a hiss and the door was open, revealing a perplexed Soundwave. A movement in the dark beyond caught her optic, and Ravage crept forward to stand behind one of the long legs of his master. "Sorry, Soundwave. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Please do," he replied quietly, stepping aside and gesturing with a hand. The door slid shut, and she proceeded to the familiar table. Soundwave had flicked on a light and now held out a metal palm for her respectfully, and she obliged him. He didn't grab her like he had before, making what was once an imperative command a question.  _Probably comes with the title._

_If "Queen" even is a title around here._

Once on the table she sat and crossed her legs, smoothing the front skirt. Ravage leapt up, purring and nuzzling her crown. He laid behind her, acting as a backrest and letting her lean on him.

"What brings you here, my Queen?" Soundwave inquired politely, taking a seat in front of her. She could tell that what he meant was "Where is Megatron?"

She shuttered her optics, stroking Ravage's head between his ear-like spikes.  _You trust him, remember?_  her mind gently prodded.

"Well, Megatron left. I don't know where he went, and I came here."  _That much is true._  "And please, just call me Eleaniris."  _Please, just leave it at that._

Soundwave was silent for a moment, studying her with his red optics. "Do you know why he left?"

Her optics welled up with tears again, embarrassed and ashamed.  _Just tell him. Someone needs to know, and you need to get it off your chest. Besides, what are you going to do? Tell Ravage?_ She had come to trust the Decepticon, as he had earned over the months. She knew that it would help if she revealed it to  _someone_  else, and all traces of Grace and Susan had been removed from the apartment...

By the end Soundwave had allowed her to hold one of his digits, his optics soft. When he was sure she was done, he consoled her, "Eleaniris, you do not need to fear this ever happening again. Megatron has  _always_  enforced a hard line in cases of rape among his ranks, and he has your best interests in mind."  _Slag, why hasn't he told her about Circuitsia?_

She raised her head, wiping her cheeks with the back of a hand. She was doubtful of the caring part, but shocked at his rule. "Really?"  _Who knew a murderer like him could have some semblance of morals._

He nodded slowly, continuing, "If he ever found out about any of his Decepticons raping a femme or mech, they were publicly executed. They were always long and grueling deaths, Eleaniris."

"Why is he like that?" She was still amazed that he bore a shred of sympathy and justice in his cold metal frame.

"It is not my place to tell you, Eleaniris." He stood, asking respectfully, "Would you like me to return you to your rooms?"

She shook her head, "I want to sleep here." Seeing the unsure look on his face, she reassured, "I will be sure that he knows that it was my idea in the first place, Soundwave."

He relented, albeit reluctantly, "As you command, my Queen."

* * *

_The Lord High Protector made his way through the dark, vacant street on his way to his fortress. He was eager to return so that he could look over the battle plans and, more importantly, see that little cleaning femme again. She had intrigued him when she had been cleaning his office one day and he had come in earlier than usual. Her form was hidden by the baggy uniform that all servants of his home wore, but he could tell a beautiful protoform lay underneath the armor. Her very presence made his spark jump in a way he had never felt before, and he wanted to explore the feelings farther; they were far too delicious to let go._

_His palace loomed before him, and as soon as he was going to enter the code for the gate he heard a cry. It made him stop, his finger hovering over the screen, listening for another sound._

_A shriek came from the way he had come, sounding eerie in the quiet air. He swiftly ran toward the location of the scream, coming across a small alleyway. A large figure was lying over a smaller one, the latter lying on the ground and making the piercing sounds._

_"Stop!" he ordered, firing up his fusion cannon. The topmost form seemed to peer at him for a moment before getting off of the figure and sprinting down the alley, melting into the darkness._

_Sobs came from the Cybertronian on the ground, and he approached cautiously. "Are you alright?" No response was given._

_When he reached the body he saw the familiar armor, though torn to shreds, and felt the familiar pull. Pink Energon was seeping from between her legs, forming a small pool on the ground. Dread ran through his circuitry, and picking her up he hastily entered the fortress and ran into the medical bay._

_He waited anxiously for what felt like a vorn, diligently pacing the hallway outside. An assistant poked his helm through the door, speaking quietly and gesturing for him to follow,"My lord."_

_She was in stasis on the berth, hooked up to several monitors. Her ruined armor had been replaced with the simple coverings of the medbay. "She is stable, but has taken severe damage to her port and chamber."_

_He growled, servos clenching with a flurry of sparks. "What is her designation?"_

_"My records say that she is known as Circuitsia, my liege."_

_Later, when she had come out of stasis lock, he had been there to speak with her. At first she was very humble, not meeting his optics and incessantly thanking him for his kindness. Eventually he had to give a strict order for her to stop, which she respected._

_He visited often, seeing her progress and slowly coming to know her. A war was looming on the horizon, and he wanted her healed and safe before it began._

_She told him that she felt dirty by how that bot had used her like a toy. She believed to be unworthy of life, unworthy of another mech's care. He had silenced her with a kiss, telling her that she was not soiled but was a beautiful femme who deserved retribution._

_And so, with the rapist's data, he had the bot tracked down and brought to the fortress. In the dark brig he slowly killed him, pulling out wires in all different places while cursing at him. When he was finished nothing was left but a pile of wires and circuitry in a puddle of Energon._

_Nevertheless her road to healing was a long one, and he spent many of his nights holding her while she cried. Though the bond of friendship grew stronger, every so often he would see the look in her optics when she remembered. Would hear her screams in the sporadic fluxes, thrashing in his berth and begging for her assailant to stop._

_It had still haunted her, even the day she had died in his arms nearly a quarter of a vorn later._

_"Frag!"_ His fist tore into the side of the old skyscraper, ripping out steel beems in his frustration. When the building toppled with a groaning of metal and shattering of glass, he moved to the next and pummeled it with his mace.  _If she hated you before, she fears_ _ **and**_   _despises you now._

Megatron scooped up a burnt-out hull of a car and flung it as far as he could, watching it hit the side of a building and take a chunk of cement out in the process. Scouring his data banks for everything Soundwave had mentioned she liked, he compiled a list in his processor. Firing up his jets, he transformed and left the abandoned city on his quest.

* * *

Her optics flickered online, and she sat up on the berth. Soundwave had given her his own to sleep in, much to her protest, and had taken to his couch to recharge instead. He had insisted that it was an honor to have her in his quarters anyway, and his will had shattered hers. She was incredibly tired from the Coronation and the attempted rape, shutting down as soon as she laid on the metal. It was now late evening of the next day, according to the small windows of the apartment. The sun cast orange light around the room, illuminating the space in early spring light.

Booming footsteps came down the hallway, and she saw Soundwave stand up from the sectional. She braced herself when she heard them stop outside the door, and he snatched her up and shoved her in a cabinet.

A hiss and a statement in Cybertronian met her audios and she froze in the darkness, careful to avoid making any sound. " _Soundwave, your report on her was complete, yes?_ "

" _Yes, my liege._ "  _Report? On me?_ Something clicked in her head, and she remembered the color scheme of her old bedroom.  _Will this train ever stop?_

" _Then these items will fit the ones described, yes?"_

There were dangerous consequences implied in Megatron's tone and it was several seconds before Soundwave responded " _Yes_."

There was a click of the door, and Soundwave waited for a minute before he scooped her up from her hiding place. "He is on his way back, and you must return to your suites." Seeing her pained expression, he set her down outside the door and said, "He cares about you, Eleaniris." Ravage followed her and she mounted him, knowing she had no choice but to go back.  _When do you_ _ **ever**_   _have a choice?_  her mind snarled cynically.

Megatron was in the main space when she entered, seated on one of the chairs of the table. Ravage left her, nudging at her in goodbye and leaving, ignoring her cries for him to stay.

The Emperor stayed where he was, watching her with sorrowful optics. She backpedaled in her fear until she hit the door. She begged the guards to open them, but they did not budge.

She turned back to him slowly, expecting him to lunge for her. Her gaze was locked on her hands, and no matter what she did she could not move it.

Megatron's words snapped her out of it, "Soundwave will be rewarded for providing you with comfort." His spark wanted to add,  _Even if it should have been me consoling you._ He had felt her presence in his temporary second-in-command's quarters, had smelt her scent on the air. One of the cabinets' doors was ajar, and he knew that was where she had been hiding from him.

He stood, taking a step toward her. She pushed into the wall like a caged animal, sobbing in fear. Sighing he stopped his approach and knelt, trying to get her to look at him. "Eleaniris, I should not have done what I did." Her gaze remained on the floor, her head turned to the side. Hurt throbbed in his spark when he saw her legs had instinctively clenched themselves together, knowing that it was his own fault that she was so afraid of him. He had inflicted the scar on her processor.

He almost jolted when she spoke, surprisingly firm for her state, "You are  _damn_  right that you shouldn't have." Her head snapped around and her optics locked with his. He saw them shift dramatically from fear to anger in a nanoklik.

"I care for you, my dear. Please, forgive me." She laughed at him, an insane cackle that made him reset his audios to make sure they were functioning properly.

"You  _care_  for me? Is it a part of your culture to  _rape_  those that you  _care_  for?" She spat at him, trying to stand taller. She was pleased with his none-too-subtle flinch.

The Emperor stood, walking back to the table and collecting the gifts. "I know that I cannot ever take back my actions, but I can try to make up for them."

She was about to bite back with a nasty retort when he dumped a pile of packages in front of her. Chocolate, precious jewels, roses of all colors, several of her favorite books...

"What..." she crept towards them, watching him wearily. He retreated and gave her space, peering at her with optics softer than she had ever seen them. She realized what it was, though, and shot him an angry look.

"You think you can win back my trust with  _gifts_?" He shook his head at her, kneeling and cooing quietly in a deep baritone.

"No, but it is a start." His servo curled around her before she could react, bringing her up to his chest to cuddle with her there.

She fought him, pushing and shoving, but a strong vibration from his chest quieted her. A faint red light seemed to glow from behind the metal where it hadn't before, and a yank from within her own chest made her gasp in surprise. The ensuing feeling relaxed her body against her will, dimming her optics. Megatron watched, pleased that at least their  _sparks_  wanted to get along.

He stepped around the gift pile and walked out, heading to the roof once more. "There is something that I would like you to see."

He transformed around her this time, flying straight up into the sky. "You're going into  _space_?" Eleaniris shrieked, grasping at the metal siding. His chuckle reverberated around her as they came through the atmosphere in record speed, fire eventually fizzling out.

Megatron's jets came on, hurtling them out further into space. Gradually he banked to the right and the Earth was shown to her. The clouds swirled over the blue of the ocean and greens and browns of the land, and she couldn't help but think,  _No wonder they called it the "Blue Marble."_

He reveled in her wonder, smiling as he sped up towards his destination. Nearing the darker side of the Earth, he found what he had been looking for.

His purr made something pull in her chest again, and with confusion she stared down at her plating. She noticed that all of her fear was gone, and that the throb made her feel safe with him again. Her brain told her not to trust him but something strange was happening with her body. A soothing pulse from her chest was having the effect of a massage on her frame, relaxing it against her command.

The lights of the Aurora Borealis danced and shimmered over the surface, flashing green and pink. He shut off his jets and let them drift in complete silence. "Wow, I have always wanted to see them but I never dreamed it would be from up here..."

"You like them?" he asked gently, and she nodded, her hand on the small glass window without so much as a thought about touching him.

"They are beautiful," she breathed in awe.

"Just like you," he cooed sweetly, though no lust was present in his voice. The pull in her chest intensified while her head was repulsed, and never had she been so emotionally confused.


	30. The Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

"What do we do now?"

Burns was sick of hearing that question. Absolutely sick of it.

It had taken him a day to recover from the blow that the coronation had sent straight to his heart. He was not the only one reeling from the shock either; the air of the base was filled with the tension that this brand of intense sorrow created. One could not walk down a hallway without seeing tears in several people's eyes, or hearing a few shuddering sobs. He considered himself lucky, though; Wilson had yet to come out of his quarters to eat and his roommate, Sergeant Epps, had reported that the man simply refused to sleep. Simmons had said nothing since, staring at the blank wall of the cafeteria with a long-cold cup of coffee in his hand, eyes and face empty of emotion. Lennox was probably tearing his hair out in the sparing room, boxing the stuffing out of a training dummy.

Burns had forced himself to pull together, knowing that Eleanor would want nothing less.  _That poor, poor woman. She deserved none of this._ He had walked to the meeting room, trying to ignore the emotions that the others' sadness brought out in him. Now, faced with the ugly head of that question again, he began slowly.

"We must assume that she is alive. From our reports, the beast does seem to take care of her. For now, we must overlook what he meant by crowning her his...his..." he stopped himself right there, forcing down the bile that had risen in his throat.  _That disgusting, perverted fiend._

Though he could not see the faces of those on the screens, he could feel the sympathetic vibes coming through the connection.  _They are hurting, too._ "I agree with Mr. B," Ms. T spoke his codename, "She has been cared for. But, we must change our tactics." Her voice was laced with a heavy Asian accent, betraying her probable location.

"Do we continue to send messages?" the Russian tone of Ms. V asked.

"We cannot. If he intercepts them, she will surely die. All hope for the Earth and our race will be lost." Mr. G held no accent. He was by far the most mysterious of all of them, and rarely spoke.

"I disagree." Wilson spoke from the doorway, and Burns saw eyes red and swollen from tears. Dark bags resided under them from his lack of sleep and abundance of stress.

"Who is this?" Ms. D asked indignantly in a German accent.

"I am the former bodyguard of the President." Wilson's voice was clear and determined, assured and strong. "I was on the mission to rescue her before her transformation."

"And why should  _we_  listen to  _you_?" Mr. G demanded, "She is now that  _barbarian's_   **mate** , because  _you_   **failed**  to retrieve her."

Wilson dipped his head respectfully, "Members of the Council of Nation, please listen to what I have to say." Burns watched him curiously, head cocked to the side and arms crossed over his chest.

"I have scoured  _every single report_  ever given to us about Eleanor and Megatron." There were murmurs at the use of his name, but he continued "Chocolates, Roses, a Steinway Grand Piano, jewels of every kind..." the agent dropped the thick folder of letters on the table.

"I have witnessed with my own eyes her condition prior to the transformation. She was well fed and warmly dressed, completely uninjured and living in luxury." He paced in front of the screens, looking at each shrouded face in turn, "He will  _never_  hurt her. No matter  _what_  happens."

" _Never_? Not even if he finds out whose side she is  _on_?" Mr. G sounded doubtful.

"Never." Wilson scanned them all one last time before walking out, his boots echoing in silence before the door clicked shut.

Burns turned back to the screen. "I vote that we follow Ms. T's suggestion. We change our strategy, but keep pushing."

"If we burn, they burn with us."

The Council nodded, and even Mr. G agreed reluctantly. "We continue messaging her."

* * *

Megatron swooped down above the palace, transforming and catching her in his servos. He looked at her dazed form, illuminated by the moon, and purred deeply in his chest. She sat up, centering her skirt, and looked up at him. She held no emotion in her faceplates nor her optics. Just gazed at him.

He descended, walking in silence to his suites. The guards bowed their helms and opened the doors for their Emperor and Empress, revealing the main space of the room beyond.

Eleaniris smiled when she saw Wheelie and Borealis. The latter chirped up at her and flapped her wings in greeting, smacking the drone in the back of his head. "Hey!"

The tyrant set her on the large table, ignoring them and walking to the Energon storage unit. He selected a single cube, coming and pulling out the chair. It made a slight scraping sound on the floor, and she winced at its harshness. He pulled her closer to him, offering her a corner, "Drink."

She obeyed, latching her lips over the edge and swallowing her fill - which wasn't much from a cube the size of her. She slid back, watching as he brought it to his own mouth and drank the remainder in several seconds. He sighed and crushed the canister once done, grinning down at her. She saw Wheelie and Borealis in the corner of her vision.

"Do they get some?" he cocked his head at her and stood again, opening the box and taking out two smaller cubes. He practically threw them, and Wheelie just barely managed to catch them.

"Why can't I drink out of my own? Why do I always have to share yours?" Her arms were crossed as she interrogated him. Truly she saw no reason that she could not have the size Wheelie and Borealis did.

His chuckle confused her as he sat and stroked her head, "But it tastes so much  _better_  after you have added your own flavor to it." She gasped in mortification and swatted at his fingers, of course having no effect. "And such a  _good_  one it is, my  _Empress_." He thought her attempts to shoo him quite adorable, but frowned at her flinch at the title.

He gestured behind her, and she swiveled to look at the coffee table. All of her gifts from the night before had been placed there neatly, and he added "We can sort those out later, if you wish."

"Now," he got up from his seat and plucked her from her place, striding to his berthroom, "you need to recharge. I want to take you to the training room tomorrow, and you will need a good charge to learn properly."

She protested in vain, and he placed her on his chest and covered her with an enormous hand. "Sleep." he ordered, dimming his optics.  _No choice, no choice_ her mind taunted. The throb in her chest returned, as did his strange red glow, as she drifted into recharge.

* * *

"Yes, this will do nicely." Starscream grinned and looked over the Energon shipment they had hijacked. He selected a cube and opened it, consuming the rich liquid. He sighed, wiping his mouth with a servo. "Excellent work, mechs. Send it to the storage room."

They stood taller at the praise, grinning at each other before carrying the crates out. Starscream watched them leave before he returned to his makeshift office.  _I could have sworn that that femme was his pet that turned us in._ He admitted reluctantly,  _She did cyberform very well, and a beautiful protoform she has too._

He shook his helm to stop the progression of thought,  _No, that is too much of a challenge. Focus on growing your forces and looking for weaknesses. He will never find you in this base. The glitchead probably won't even think to look here._

* * *

When Eleaniris awoke, she tried to sit up but felt the weight of his hand on her. Feeling eyes - or optics - on her, she turned and saw him unnervingly staring at her with unreadable red optics. She sighed, trying to push his hand off, but to no avail. It didn't even budge an inch.

"Can you move your hand please?" she asked, exasperated with his amused expression. He was just so big, he could do anything he wished to her...

Except rape her, evidently.

Megatron relented with a chuckle, "It's called a servo, precious. And I don't get a 'Good morning?'" He was mocking her, playing around and trying to get a rise out of her.

"No," she grunted, moving to stand up. His  _servo_ pinned her again, this time on her stomach against his plating. Her head told her to distrust and hate him, for he had tried to rape her, but she was conflicted for some odd reason.

He sat up, still holding her securely against his expansive chest, "What about now?" His tongue purposefully flicked over one of the dangerous points of his fangs, and she gulped.

"Good morning." she said curtly through clenched teeth.  _Or whatever they call them._

"That's better, beautiful." A flutter in her chest and repulsion in her head. He pulled her away and let her sit in his servo, going out into the living room.

He again had her drink from his own cube, and she hated him for it. Megatron found that he liked having her dependent on him in such a way, so that she literally ate out of his servo. It made his spark thrum happily that he provided everything for her.

He went into his office, finding the datapad that had been delivered the evening prior when they had gone out. Dropping Eleaniris and her companions on the smooth surface, the Emperor promised, "I will show you how to use your daggers later, but I need to read over this."

His statement piqued her curiosity; he had never really put her on hold to do something else for his Empire.  _It must be really important, if he's so adamant about it._ She turned to Wheelie and Borealis, sitting down and criss-crossing her legs. Borealis scampered over and tried to sit in her lap, but was already too big to do so. Already she had updated to a larger size, as Soundwave had implied.

"Sorry, girl. You can't fit anymore." Eleaniris apologized, stroking the side crests on her head. The wings drooped, and instead the gryphon settled under her right arm and put her head in her lap. It was half the length of her forearm, and she wondered just how big she was going to grow to be.

Wheelie was still nervous around her, and she suspected that Megatron was the cause. The poor drone was the height of her lower legs, and the thought of how  _huge_  Megatron must appear to him made her shiver. Gesturing with a servo, she said gently "Come on, Wheelie." She added in a whisper, "Don't worry about him. I'll protect you."

He nodded and complied, taking a seat in front of her, "D-don't do that, I'm j-just a scrap drone."

"No, you're a friend of the Empress." She smiled when his jaw dropped and she closed it with a finger, letting it click. "No friend of the Queen should demean themselves." She hated calling herself a Queen; the word tasted like surrender, like submission to the monster sitting behind her. But her heart went out to the little blue truck seated in front of her, for she knew what it felt like to be scared and powerless.

Megatron held back his purr when she willingly called herself his Queen, trying to keep his focus on the datapad in front of him. His mood had been improving through the whole read, satisfaction flooding his circuitry at the content of the report.

A knock on the office door made all of the heads in the room snap to look at it, and Megatron's gravelly voice told the Decepticon to enter.

Soundwave bowed his head, greeting "Emperor Megatron, Empress Eleaniris." He switched to Cybertronian, " _My liege, may I speak with you outside for a breem?_ "

Megatron placed the datapad on the desk, standing with a whirring of gears to follow him out the door. Eleaniris watched carefully to make sure he was gone before moving to the report hurriedly, taking note of the place he was at before scrolling to the top. She thanked the Lord that she could read Cybertronian as she started:

_Soundwave reporting. Subject: Whereabouts of the Autobots._

She mused,  _Autobots? Interesting._ Wheelie begged her, "A-are you sure you should be doing that?" He had seen the title too, but he was honestly more worried about what Megatron would do if he found out that he hadn't stopped her. He was done with the Decepticons after having been kicked around and abused like a lowly human slave by Barricade and everyone in the slave camp, but knew consequences for him could include termination if the Supreme Commander came in.

"It's okay, Wheelie. You saw nothing." she leveled a pointed look at him, and he backed away and nodded furiously.

_Reported Autobot sightings: none. Surrounding systems have been checked with no indications of their presence._

She went down past the details of how the searches had been conducted to a more interesting part.

_Scouts report Optimus Prime remains online, though his location is hidden._

_Optimus Prime again? Who_ _ **is**_ _he to them? Must be important._ Again, more scrolling until she stopped in shock.

_Recommendation: Do not allow arrival on Earth. Protect planet from discovery._

_Predicted Alliance: Human race. Could jeopardize established operations._

She reset the datapad to his place and stepped away from it, thoughts flurrying through her head.  _Nation must know of this. We need to send a message to the Autobots, especially this Optimus Prime,_ _ **immediately**_ _._ Instead, she turned her audios to the voices barely audible through the door.

Megatron listened to Soundwave's report on the Energon raid, narrowing his optics at the mention of Starscream. "They were not followed?"

The officer shook his helm slightly, and the Emperor of the Earth growled at the sheer ineptitude of the Decepticon forces.  _Must I replace their processors myself?_

Turning to a different subject, he praised, "Your comfort to my Queen is noteworthy, Soundwave. I believe it warrants a reward." Megatron had seen his officer take special notice in one of the femmes that cared for his Eleaniris, and thought no harm in offering her to him. "You may take the grooming slave to do with as you wish, so long as it does not affect her duties in service to the Queen." Eleaniris gasped, covering her mouth with a servo.

Soundwave was shocked as well. He had thought he had been discreet with Grace, but he should have known that nothing escaped his master's observational skill. Dipping his helm, he accepted, "Your graciousness surpasses all, my Lord."

Megatron chuckled and waved him away, smirking "You speak as Starscream does, Soundwave. Do not remind me of that traitorous piece of slag." Soundwave bowed and exited, the doors booming closed.

Eleaniris scurried to her place, pulling Borealis close to her as he re-entered.  _Too much all at once._ _ **Again**_ _._

Megatron took his seat, the metal of the throne-like chair groaning slightly. She let him read in silence for several minutes before asking cautiously, "Megatron?"

He perked up at her soft voice uttering his name, "What is it, my flower?" Eleaniris shook her head to dismiss the anger over the trivial matter.  _Later._

 _"_ I noticed that you removed all of my human supplies, and that the table was changed." He watched her expectantly, and she continued cautiously, "Well, I didn't see a place for Grace and Susan and, uh, well, um, I-"

"They are not deactivated, if that is what you are asking." Megatron emotionlessly interrupted her stuttering, turning off the datapad. He noticed her relieved slump, glad that he had managed to do something correctly.  _Femmes and their complexity. Circuitsia was no different._

"Can I see them?" she hoped that she was not asking too much.

"Of course. Now, or later?" his eagerness to please showed in his voice as he stood and placed the datapad on a shelf behind him, sliding it between several others. Her mind strayed to wonder if they were all on the same topic.

"Now?" she meant for it to be a statement, but it turned into a question as he scooped her and her companions up into his massive servo, walking out the door and locking it. He dropped them off on the floor and effortlessly pushed open one of the heavy doors with a single servo.

"Very well. I can teach you later." He walked in silence down through the palace, and Eleaniris realized with some sickness that it was the way to the medbay.  _Oh Lord, please no..._

Her fear was confirmed as he marched into the back of the medbay, past the medical berths and to the doors burned into her memory. His sensors felt her grip tighten in fear, and his spark wrenched at thought of what she was remembering.  _It had to be done, my dear. There was no other way._

He covered her with his other servo as he entered the back room where she had been kept for a week, setting her down and stepping away. Eleaniris wheeled around in the all-too-familiar space, her optics coming to Susan and Grace.

 _Robotic_  Susan and  _robotic_  Grace, who were barely managing to sit up through their pain. She flinched herself at the memory, running to them and falling to her knees. They looked exactly like they had before, although there were several modifications she noticed. Wider hips, like hers, being among them.  _Barbarians,_ she cursed the Decepticons,  _savages._

She whipped around in fury, staring at him with blind hate, " _You_  did this? Do you stop at  _nothing_?"

"Was my  _home_ , my  _planet_ , my  _race_  and  _ **humanity**_  not  _enough_  for you?" He opened his mouth, trying to explain, but Grace's rasp was what stopped her.

"Eleaniris, please." The Queen turned to look at her again and Grace clarified, pink optics soft, " _He_  didn't do this to us.  _We_ asked for it."

Susan set a servo on her knee, a movement that made the stylist gasp in pain, "We didn't...want...you to be... alone." The woman's bright blue optics were dimmed because of the ache.

Eleaniris was touched, shaking her head as tears slipped out of her optics, "Why sacrifice yourselves for  _me_? I didn't  _want_  this."

Grace smiled, grimacing at the spike of soreness, "Exactly. You were so sweet and kind and selfless, Eleanor. You were a pleasure to serve, and Susan and I have no family left."

She lowered her voice, "And someone has to support you besides those  _fiends_." Eleaniris gave a slight chuckle, still amazed and feeling very lucky to have such good friends.

Megatron watched the affair with a fond smile on his faceplates, knowing his Queen would have dedicated and protective handmaidens to help ease her into the role of mate of the most powerful commander in the universe.  _She needs someone to help her with our sparklings, too,_  his processor added lustfully.

And he couldn't help but agree, a lascivious smirk growing over his mouth.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, guys, I did not forget about Starscream!
> 
> Lord Megatron commands that you write a review! (and Eleaniris asks you - in a polite fashion - to write one if it is convenient.)


	31. The Hilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Mild language and innuendos.

Burns sighed as the viewing screen clicked off, wiping his hand down his face in exhaustion. The other members of the council had asked a question he could not answer: whether Eleanor - or  _Eleaniris_  - could even be trusted. Now that she was their Queen, their was no guarantee that she was still allied with them.  _They might have wiped her mind. Bastards._

Remembering the support Wilson had provided, and thinking that he might be able to answer the question, Burns left the meeting room and walked to the Secret Service agent's quarters, mentally preparing for the discussion to come.

Once he reached the door, he hesitated, his fist hovering in midair over the beaten, rough wood. Steeling and convincing himself that it must be done he rapped firmly, careful to avoid getting splinters in his knuckles.

Silence, before muffled footsteps sounded and became louder, stopping on the other side of the door. Wilson yanked the door open, his face slick with new tears. His eyes flicked up and down, studying his leader, "Come in."

The wooden panel was closed, and the two men had the space to themselves. It was stringently furnished, two blanket-covered palettes serving as beds with a single cinderblock in the center, supporting a small lamp. Power was strictly regulated, most of it going to the kitchens and meeting room, and only a little was spared for use in personal quarters.

"What is it?" Wilson had tensed, his jaw taut. He was used to personal calls from Burns to mean grim news for the cause.

Burns sighed, dropping his head before looking up at him again. "The Council brought up an issue that I do not have enough knowledge to answer confidently."

The agent watched apprehensively.

"They questioned her allegiance and reliability." Wilson swore, pacing in a circle around the room.

"Do they truly think so  _little_  of her?" he growled angrily, on the verge of shouting.

"If he chose her to stand by his side as his Empress, it implies a level of trust." Burns tried to explain.

"Did they  _ever_ think that she could have turned all of us into her  _mate_  at  _any time_?" Wilson shook his head, exasperated and ignoring Burn's explanation. "If she was untrustworthy, she would have reported us and we would  **all**  be  _ **dead**_."

Burns studied him, trying to keep his face from betraying the fury he shared with Wilson; one of them had to remain in control of their heads. "There is another meeting tomorrow. I believe that there would be no problems in having you speak on her behalf."

He walked back to the door, turning to look at the distressed man behind him. The events of the last year and a half had ruined him, turning him into a shell of what he once was. "I know that, if she were here right now, she would thank you for your support."

Burns gave him a sympathetic look, closing the door behind him. Ben was left to prepare his argument in Eleanor's (he refused to call her what that  _beast_  called her) defense.

* * *

"Can't you give them a pain killer or  _something_?" Eleaniris asked, staring up at him pleadingly. Susan and Grace were venting heavily, trying to stay still in order to minimize the pain.

Megatron was rudely yanked out of his lewd thoughts involving his Queen and the floor of his vacant throne room. Shaking his helm and clearing her imagined moans from his processor, he considered her request.  _They're so small it surely would not take much._

Affirmatively nodding to her, he glimpsed her smile before he turned to comm. Shockwave and request small doses for the two femmes.

"He's getting something." Eleaniris confirmed, squeezing their servos reassuringly. They gave her weak smiles, and suddenly she remembered the nature of Soundwave's reward.  _Do I tell her?_ Grace's optics were dark and her body was shuddering, and Eleaniris bit her lip in thought.

 _She has other things to worry about, but can I_ _ **really**_   _keep it a secret from her?_ A quieter voice said softly,  _If you tell her, you risk letting them know that you speak Cybertronian. She could slip up and accidentally imply that she already knew about it beforehand._

Sighing, she made her choice reluctantly.  _I'm sorry, Grace. There is nothing I can do._

Her mind continued without her permission,  _Hopefully he is as gentle with you as Megatron is with me._ She shook her head vigorously to get rid of that thought; it reeked of Stockholm Syndrome and betrayal.

The sound of the door opening made her whip her head around in curiosity, which ebbed upon seeing Shockwave step into the room. He was carrying a small set of needles, (hopefully) filled with the pain killers. She stepped back and gave him room to work, nearly tripping on her cape.

Shockwave had barely finished administering the pain relievers when Megatron scooped her up into his palm. "Hey!" she protested, "Can't I stay with them a  _little_ while longer?"

He stopped just outside the doors and looked down at her impassively, "Do you wish for them to recover faster?"

"Yes…" she admitted, anticipating the point he was trying to make.

"They will do so if they are left alone." Eleaniris nodded, slumped in his servo, forced to admit that he was correct. Megatron continued out into the hallway, turning to walk in a direction she had never been before, promising "I will let you see them periodically, my Queen."

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking down at her lap and servos and missing Megatron's fleeting affectionate smile.

"You have your daggers, correct?" She nodded, still not meeting his gaze and thinking about what they had given up for her.  _There must be something else going on here. Even if they did so of their own free will, he might have nudged them into it. At least they were not forced like those test subjects._

Starting, she craned her neck to look up at him, "Where are those other, um, women?" She wasn't sure whether to call them test subjects or not.

Glancing down at her, he continued through the passages, "Our race calls them femmes and males mechs, dear. Soundwave moved them to a secure location until I think of what to do with them; they are safe."

 _Until_ _ **you**_ _can think of what to do with them?_ "Why don't they get to choose?" Eleaniris tried to keep her voice neutral while her insides burned with anger.

He looked at her as if she had grown two heads, snorting, "And  _why_  should they have a say?"

 _Pick your battles._ "Well, they are their own best judges of their own skills, so you could at least ask..." she tried diplomatically, dipping her head unconsciously.

"No." was his firm answer as he opened a larger door. "They are only slaves, Eleaniris."

She bristled and was about to argue before the harsh sounds met her ears. Piercing screeches of metal on metal echoed around the large chamber, a cacophony of the sound of battle. A bay of windows was on one side, illuminating the room with midday light. The black floor was lightly padded from what she could see, similar to the floor of any gymnastics gymnasium. The walls were mostly barren, but she could see an Energon dispenser with a code screen and several places for weapons to rest, as well as a few other doors.

There were easily a dozen Decepticons sparring in the space with swords and spears of various types and sizes. A heavy  _metallic_ scent hung in the air, which her sensors told her was incredibly warm with the heated bodies.

Megatron's boom made her jerk around to look up at him as he shouted authoritatively in Cybertronian, " _Out!_ "

Immediately, all activity stopped. The Decepticons halted their sparring and stood at attention, saluting as they made their way out and keeping their optics down respectfully.

Soon, the door clicked shut and they were alone in the enormous room. He moved to one of the doors in the walls, revealing a long, narrow, windowless space. Simple round targets of different sizes stood on one end, illuminated by spotlights from the tall ceiling. Each looked as if it could be controlled by a screen that sat in front of each row of each target. The place reminded her of a bowling alley, oddly enough.

He pulled his cuff out of nowhere, and she started. "Where did that come from?"

The Emperor chuckled, smirking at her, "My subspace, precious. It works like a pocket and stores a few things. I believe you have one as well."

"Where do those objects go, exactly?" She tilted her head to the side, amazed.

"I have heard that another dimension is opened for storage." He grinned when he saw her jaw drop; her astonishment at ordinary things was so  _cute._

"How _?_ Just... _how?"_ She had thought about other dimensions, but in a strictly theoretical sense.

He chuckled, stroking her head gently. "The objects that are kept there are tied to us by our energy signature."

"Wow. That's… pretty amazing." Megatron smiled at her as he placed her on the ground gently - a well-practiced movement from the months she had lived with him. He tapped a few controls on the podium-mounted screen, and the target moved lower and closer. She suspected that it was now about 10 yards away.

A terrifying thought struck her, and she asked him fearfully, "You wouldn't put  _me_ in there, would you?"

He seemed shocked by the prospect and knelt to her level, reassuring " _Never_ , my little flower." A small smile grew over his faceplates, his optics soft. She wanted to flinch away at his sickeningly sweet pet name, but a steady throb in her chest made her hesitate. Before she knew it the moment had passed and he had locked the simple silver cuff around a wrist and shrunk down to her size. Well, closer to her size anyway.

"Take out your daggers." He gestured to her legs, and she bent slightly to draw them out. They felt natural in her servos, their handle size just right.

"Now," he stood behind her and she felt his hot "breath" hitting her neck, "stand square towards your target." Eleaniris followed his instructions, fixing her gaze on the one he had moved.

His large servo slid down her right arm, lifting and straightening it before adjusting her grip on the knife. "Keep both of your optics online while you aim, and bring your arm back."

Cocking her arm, she listened as he directed, "Lock your wrist while you are throwing. Don't flick it." She nodded, and he added "Throw it and let it go as your arm comes in front of you."

She focused on the target, steadying her aim before snapping her arm forward and releasing the dagger as he instructed. It tumbled end over end, going fairly straight for her first throw before hitting the outside ring. She was surprised that it had hit the target at all, but even more at the force in which she threw it.  _The process must have made me stronger._ "Good," he congratulated impassively. "Let's try another, hmm?"

The Empress nodded, moving her other knife from her left to her right servo.

* * *

Megatron walked up to the target and effortlessly pulled out the daggers, smiling as he walked back to her. "Take a little break. The last was very good." She had managed to hit the center a few times, but they were still practicing with the spear.

Eleaniris sat down, mindful of her skirts' positioning and her cape, slumping slightly and rubbing her optics.

"What good is this going to do me, anyway?" She questioned as he came to sit across from her, admitting weakly "It's not as if I could actually  _fight_ someone and win."

He smirked, moving closer to her, "You're not supposed to be able to win." Chuckling, he held one of the knives out, "These are designed to subdue until  _I_ get there to protect you."  _And rip the very Spark out of those who would_ dare  _lay a claw on you._

 _How much control does he_ _ **really**_ _need over me? He's_ _ **disgusting**_ _._ Biting the inside of her cheek, she said "I don't see how they could  _subdue_ anyone much. Especially if they are  _your_ size."

The Emperor stood and swiftly pulled her to her pedes, walking her to the target. He jammed a knife into the semi-solid material and letting it stick there while gesturing for her to take the handle.

"Twist the grip." He said, and she followed his guidance. The elegantly engraved handle actually moved as she turned it clockwise, clicking into place. "These blades will inject a, ah,  _paralyzer_ of sorts into the victim, regardless of their size and as long as it is in a fuel line. Anytime you use these, they alert me of your location."

"I thought that I already had a tracker?" she blurted.

He cocked his head at her and smiled at her inference, "You did, but the cyberformation energy fried its circuitry."

He took it from her, twisting counter-clockwise and removing the blade. Megatron chuckled as he added, "And don't think of using them on me, precious. I have been programmed so that this particular strain will not work on me."

 _Damn._ "You will be told of my location  _wherever_ I am?" she asked incredulously, accepting the knife from his offered servo.

" _Wherever_  you are." he purred, stroking her right cheek rim with a claw, "I will  _always_ find you, my Empress." He leant forward and placed a tender kiss on the central peak of her crown while she pushed at his chest angrily.  _Why me? Why?_

The warlord ignored her ineffective shoves, passing his lips over the design on the protrusion,  _You will learn to enjoy this, my chocolate. Very soon, if I am in luck._ He restrained his chuckles, stepping back from her and activating the cuff again.

He received a comm. from Soundwave, who asked to speak with him personally. Seeing that his bondmate-to-be was tired from her training - which had gone fairly successfully - he asked her to resheath her daggers and offered a servo for her.

She did so, stepping up into his palm and sitting down.

Entering his throne room and observing that Soundwave was already present, he reclined in his enormous metal chair and set Eleaniris on his thigh.

" _Go on."_ he urged Soundwave in Cybertronian, watching him with red optics.

" _Many of those working in the slave camps have requested that they see the Queen optic-to-optic, my liege, if it pleases you that she meet her subjects."_ Soundwave reported this emotionlessly.

" _Which camps?"_ he interrogated, subconsciously petting his Queen's helm.

" _All of them."_

Megatron raised an optic ridge, smirking down at her, " _She is that popular, hmmm? Good, because she should be."_

She had to try not to gag at his statement.

" _I will start our little tour of these camps tomorrow, so make sure that they are prepared. They should meet their new Empress."_ She kept her face stoic, finding her servos very interesting.

Soundwave nodded and bowed deeply, " _It will be done."_

"What was that about?" she asked curiously as one of the side doors clicked shut after Soundwave.

He continued to stroke her on her head while he answered, "It was nothing that you need worry about. We will just be going on a trip, that it all."

She nodded, sitting stiffly on his plating as the sunlight faded from the windows. Again she recharged on his chest that night, though she had fought her hardest to sleep elsewhere.  _He always wins,_ she thought dismally as she fell asleep,  _he always wins._

* * *

Wilson clenched and unclenched his fists, completely immersed in preparation for his argument as he waited for his time to start. It was early morning, and he had managed to get a little much-needed sleep before rising.

Burns finally waved him over, reintroducing him to the Council of Nation. "Ben Wilson, senior operator in the Secret Service and bodyguard to the President."

"You mean  _former_ President." Mr G. corrected standoffishly.

"No, Mr. B means as he says," Wilson retorted, "Once a President of the United States,  _always_ a President of the United States."

Leaving no room for interruption, he ran straight at the matter, "I believe I have been called to speak on behalf of  _President_ Eleanor Sherman and prove that she is loyal to the cause."

"I have had the honor of serving as her bodyguard for  _years_ , even during her time as a Senator. I believe that I am an excellent character reference, or at least the best you will find right now."

Wilson gestured as he spoke, "She does not have the betrayal-type personality. I will guarantee you that."

"I can aso guarantee that she did not willingly choose to become his  _Queen,"_ he said the word with disgust, "I was there when her sister called her. I was there when that poor woman lost her, her  _best friend_ and  _only remaining family,_  to the robots in Chicago."

"She was  **never**  one to give up, not on  **anything**. While many surrendered to those  _fiends_ , she fought on and showed her commitment to the ideals of freedom and democracy."

He looked at each of them pointedly, even though they could not see his face, and paced in front of the screens, "Besides, need I count how many letters we have sent her, how many cave paintings that were  _made_ of her?"

"There are  _dozens_ of pieces of evidence that she could have turned in to Megatron," there were a couple stifled gasps at the use of the name, "But she didn't."

"She could have made the choice to give him those things at  _any time she wished."_ Wilson was hitting his flat palm with the side of his other hand in a karate-chop motion, trying to empathize his point.

"We would all be  _dead_ if she was untrustworthy. We would all be  _dead_ if she was no longer on our side."

He swept his gaze over each of them, finishing sternly, "We would all be  _dead_ if she loved him."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. Can you believe it? OVER THIRTY chapters! Wow. Who knew a little dream could become 30+ chapters of story?
> 
> Review, please. Eleaniris really needs you to.


	32. The Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Find The Lion King quote, which I don't own, btw.

"Eleaniris, wake up." His voice sounded far away at first, echoing eerily in her head. However, it became more insistent as he repeated his request.

Groaning, she opened her optics and sat up, his servo moving to her back and stroking tenderly. "Did you recharge well?" he asked gently, his optics soft with affection.

She nodded, slowly standing, her grey optics fixating on him. Thinking it best to be polite, she asked him how he was feeling.

Smirking at her, he chuckled and swept her off her pedes with his servo, standing himself. "Wonderful,  _precious_." She looked away, biting her lip in disgust.

He moved out into the main space, and Eleaniris distracted herself with Wheelie and Borealis. The latter was even bigger now, the size of a Great Dane. Spreading her eagle-like wings, she flapped them wildly but only managed to get a little off the ground before plopping back down again.  _I must ask Soundwave how big she is going to get._

"Hi," she cooed sweetly to the gryphon and the drone, making Megatron clench his jaw in jealousy.  _If only she would talk to_ _ **me**_ _like that._

The tightened look on his master's faceplates was not lost on Wheelie, who averted his optics and did not reply to his friend. He knew very well that Megatron could tear him apart with the ease of pulling out a loose bolt, and also - from the stories he had heard of the commander's past - that the giant mech had been  _very_ possessive of his interfacing slaves. The blue truck could only imagine how proprietorial he would be with his  _Queen_ and therefore he did not test the tyrant's patience.

He set her down and walked to the Energon storage unit, opening it and taking out a single large cube. He was about to shut the door when he had a thought.

Eleaniris jumped as a small cube was set in front of her and Megatron seated himself with a groan of metal. She openly gaped at him as he drank from his larger one, finishing it in seconds and chuckling, "Well?"

Hastily she opened her own cube and gulped down the contents, not wanting him to rethink his decision.  _Why the sudden change in tone?_

"Thank you," she said sheepishly, setting down the empty square, "I appreciate it."

"Anything for you." he said softly, lowering his helm to her level and peering at her with soft optics.

Slowly she walked forward and placed her servo on his cheek rim, stroking lightly before stepping back again. "Thank you."

He raised himself, offering her a servo. "We have a trip to embark upon." Just as she settled into his palm, he received a comm. from Soundwave.

" _My liege, there has been more trouble with the slaves._ " his tone was very cautious, and rightly so.

Megatron growled lowly, making Wheelie and Eleaniris flinch reflexively, " _What of them?"_

" _There have been more rebellions. Perhaps, if I may make a suggestion…"_

" _ **What**_ _?"_ Megatron's voice warned him to be careful with his request.

" _Perhaps, if she says something to them, we will not waste otherwise useful slaves."_

The warlord paused, reflecting. He had only wanted to show off his gorgeous Queen, not have her  _speak_.

" _How many will be terminated?"_

Soundwave calculated before responding, " _Only 15% of the global slave population, but it is likely to send off a chain reaction that-"_

" _I understand, Soundwave."_ Megatron interrupted, " _Prepare a speech for her on one of the smaller data pads and deliver it to me in camp NA-1. You are dismissed."_

He clicked off the connection, startling Eleaniris as he walked back into the berthroom on a whim. "Would you like to change your skirts?" he asked absently, looking at her indifferently.

She nodded furiously. "Maybe something a little more, um,  _conservative_." He raised an optic ridge at her, and she was reminded, " _I take orders from no one."_

Grinding her teeth, she said submissively, "Please?"

"No." he blatantly raked her body with his optics, "You are much too beautiful to cover up, my dear. You should not be ashamed of your assets."

She felt heat rise in her cheeks, even though she knew Cybertronians didn't blush. There were so many implications to his statement; for one, that he did enjoy the sight of her and he thought that his army would too.

"I do have a few more colors for you to select from, though." Entering the small room outside his washrack, he showed her a wall cabinet she had not seen before. It was opposite the windows and the direction she had primarily focused on, so it came as no surprise to her that she had not noticed it before.

Opening the door, he smiled at her little gasp. He had had a multitude skirts of different colors, lengths, and cuts made out of the finest fabrics for his sparkmate, as well as multiple pelvic and breast plate combinations of different patterns and metals.

Considering who she would be seeing, she pointed to a plain black skirt and plain silver plates. Nodding and intrigued by her choice, he pulled them off of their hooks and closed the cabinet.

Megatron let her dress on the marble countertop, turning away respectfully and giving her her privacy. Once done, he left the purple skirts and golden plating in the small bin on the floor for the cleaning slaves to collect before going out to the roof.

Transforming around her and taking off, Eleaniris was left to her thoughts about what he had planned for her, as well as some of the memories of visiting the slave camps before. She dreaded doing it again.

" _Here we are," he murmured, walking into the quarters that had been prepared for the two of them. Though simply furnished, she couldn't help but smile when she saw a little pile of blankets and a pillow for her._ They must have put a lot of effort in to prepare this,  _she thought to herself._

_She supposed that they were somewhere in Africa, visiting another slave camp. He had not let her see the slaves, she had noticed, and had instead kept her in the control center under the watchful optic of the head supervisor, Brawl. The tank had mostly left her alone, which she appreciated, while Megatron was inspecting the human slaves._

_Though, while Megatron was out, she saw over the surveillance systems another slave being pulled apart gleefully by a human-sized supervisor. The look on his amused, laughing face as the human's teeth were yanked out was forever ingrained in her memory. She had let only a single tear run down her cheek, not wanting to draw attention to herself and receive a reaction similar to Barricade's._

_Now, Megatron walked over to the rectangular box and took out an Energon cube. He saw her watching him, and the Decepticon leader informed her, "I believe that a drone will be bringing you some food, fleshling."_

_She nodded, sitting in the blankets he had put her down on. They weren't as soft as the ones Megatron had given her back in his palace, but they were still warm. Spreading them out so that she would have some cushioning, she laid her head down on the pillow to wait._

_A few minutes later, while Megatron was looking over a "data pad," a knock came from the door. He growled, "Enter," not even removing his eyes from the tablet._

_A small supervisor, similar to the one she had seen earlier, walked into the room and to the table she was on. "Human," he sneered, practically throwing a black box at her before bowing to his master, "My liege, I hope you find your quarters comfortable." Megatron had told her in passing that it would be a late visit to the camp, and he wanted to spend the night._

_Megatron did not spare the subordinate a glance, nodding his head. "They are satisfactory."_

_He saluted, saying stiffly, "All hail Megatron!" The chant, as always, made her flinch._

" _You are dismissed," the silver titan growled, and she could have sworn she saw him roll his optics._ Can they even  _do_  that?

 _As soon as the irritable drone had left, she opened her box curiously. A greenish-brown mush greeted her, and she thought she saw bits of orange in it._ Carrots, perhaps?

_Dipping a finger in it tentatively, she sampled it and almost gagged._

_He must have heard her, because he jerked his head up at the sound. He craned his neck to look at what the box held and his dark, deep, dangerous growl made her want to cower._

_She shifted uncomfortably as he practically tore the door down on his way out, his heavy footsteps banging down the hallway. His roar, however, sounded as if it originated in the very room she was in._

" _ **SLAVE SLOP**_ _?! You gave a royal pet_   _ **SLAVE SLOP**_ _?!" she shuddered as there were various bangs and yells of pain, knowing that the drone was getting it now._

 _She wasn't so sure how she felt. Mostly it was sadness, that her people had to eat food that_ **dogs**   _prior to the Invasion would turn their noses up at. Another, smaller part, was surprised that he cared that much. That he didn't laugh and shove her face in it like any of his subordinates would._

_When he came back, wiping his hands with a towel and staining it pink, he was muttering about blatant incompetence and being "surrounded by idiots."_

_He looked at her, shaking his head shamefully and tutting, "Let me take that." He scooped up the box and replaced it with a sealed package of slightly crushed saltine crackers. "This is the best I can do right now."_

_She nodded, taking the bag and thanking him. "My pleasure, pet." His fingers reeked of Energon, a scent she had learned to detect over the months spent with him, as he softly passed his claw through her hair repeatedly while she ate. It was always a gentle action, similar to having her hair brushed, and she felt guilty when she found that she liked it._

_Again, she fell asleep on his chest that night wondering why she was so different._

* * *

Hesitantly she poked at the metal of his side next to her. "Megatron?"

"That's  _my Emperor_  to you, precious." his tone was playful, a rarity that made her a little uncomfortable. He chuckled at his own joke, "Yes, little petal?"

She squirmed at the nickname, finding it sickeningly sweet. "Well, I was wondering, about my new body..."

He listened, completely silent.

"Since I'm stuck in it forever, I might as well learn more about it. I mean, it must be so different from a human's." Megatron grit his denta at the word  _stuck_ , hurt that she would still rather be human than be a Cybertronian.  _I can fix that._

"Your teeth are called denta or dental plating. Audios, also called audio receptors, lie on the inside of your helm, or head. Your brain has been replaced with a processor, your nose with a nasal ridge or plate, and lips are lip components." He rattled off all of the body parts he could think of, save her spark and interface components - which would be uncomfortable for her to learn - for another time.

"Wow." she said after he had finished, faceplates passive. "So human bodies are very similar to yours?" The Emperor didn't like that she said  _yours_ and not  _ours_.

"Yes, I suppose they are, but are much more inferior in comparison to ours." Eleaniris held her tongue (or glossa), knowing that he was correct, if blunt and borderline offensive.

"Maybe not so much inferior, but just different." she tried to argue.

"I would like to see a  _human_  transform," he challenged lightly, knowing that this could very easily turn into another argument.

"I would like to see  _you_  figure skate." Eleaniris said, almost giggling at the thought.

After searching the internet for what that was, he admitted to her point. "I would like to see a  _human_  fly."

Smirking, she replied smugly "I would like to see  _you_  do yoga."

More references on the internet, and he laughed softly.

Changing the subject once he had quieted, she inquired, "Did you have any of the arts on Cybertron?"

He saddened, his voice becoming distant, "No, not to the extent humans do."

"What did you have?" she inquired carefully, subconsciously stroking his metal soothingly with long fingers.

"Some etchings and statues, but that was most of it." He appreciated her touches, fighting to keep himself from leaning into her.

"No music or anything?" She couldn't truly imagine not having music.

"No." It was hard to tell his emotions, since she could not see his face.

"Huh. What about dancing?"

"No dancing either." She cocked her helm to the side.

"What did you do then? What took the place of those things?"

"Mostly science, government, and defense." She tried not to snort, not wanting to insult the giant being she was  _inside_ of.

Observing the mountains and forests they were flying over, she inquired, "What about plants? What was the scenery like?"

"There were several plant varieties, but nothing that you can conceive without seeing it for yourself. Cybertron did not have many geographic landmarks like Earth though, precious."

Wanting to move away from that topic he asked about her own experiences, even though he knew about the vast majority of her life from Soundwave's report.

She meandered sporadically through her life, chuckling at some parts, until she reached the bit about her election. "I was only 40 years old when I was chosen. The youngest president ever, and the first woman too." She looked down at her servos, "They called my election the event of the  _century_. Not that that matters anymore."  _Or to you._

Megatron hated how broken her spirit sounded, and his optics softened where she could not see them.  _It matters very much to me, little one. Your experience will be invaluable since you will come to stand by my side as my Queen, my other half._

Shaking her helm, she moved on, "What was being a gladiator like?"

He grinned, forgetting all about her suffering as he retold some of his greatest fights, exaggerating  _only a little_  to impress her. Megatron did not notice the small amount of coolant that slipped down her cheeks from her optics as he reminisced for the rest of the ride to camp NA-1.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, Megatron. The Leader of the Decepticons is supposed to be observant. *tsks*


	33. The Victory Tour, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I do not own The Hunger Games trilogy, from which several themes are taken for this chapter. Beware the swears.

Megatron was now decreasing his altitude and dropping below the clouds, which were illuminated by the midday sun. From his cockpit Eleaniris began to recognize the surroundings, asking "This is Barricade's camp, isn't it?"

"Yes." Pausing, he inquired, "You don not favor him, do you?"

She shook her helm vigorously, "He's so… mean. I can tell that he is the type to take advantage of his power and abuse it."

"Besides, he wasn't that nice to me either of the times I saw him."

He chuckled at her grimace, "Remember that you are the Queen, Eleaniris."

She snorted in disgust and almost laughed at the sadistic, thin facade of authority.  _As if that title gives me_ any  _power. I'm still a toy; a slave like the rest of my people to your wanton, twisted desires._

_A Slave Queen._

"Do I hold a rank among the your forces?" she was genuinely curious as to where she fit in their little pecking order. Eleaniris knew that she would still be beneath Megatron -  _in more ways than one_ , her processor added sickeningly - but it was an interesting question.

He was silent for a moment, considering, "You do not hold a rank within the Decepticons. Yours is a different position, still high but not within the armies." This was how Circuitsia was as well; his forces had respected her as an extension of himself, though she was not Supreme Commander.

He repeated this thought, thinking it might serve to clear up any ambiguity, "You will be honored as an extension of myself, my dear." Quickly, he added sincerely, "I will give you anything you desire; all that you need do is trill those tiny vocals and your word is my goal." The Emperor enjoyed having another cause to serve besides that of the Decepticons: his Queen's comfort and happiness.

Taken aback by his serious words, she couldn't help but feel touched. Yet a part of her was distrustful, still in the dark about his motivations. "Why did you choose me, again?"

He didn't answer her question as he transformed and dropped to the ground, not wanting to tell her of Circuitsia until the night he bonded with her. It would be more intimate that way, more special for her.

Eleaniris crossed her arms over her chest as he caught her, thoroughly unimpressed that he didn't answer her.

The ground was covered in the last icy mush of winter, and in some spots she could see a little grass starting to push its way up through the mud and into the sun. They were standing outside of the slave camp, whose chain-link fences stood twenty feet high with barbed wire wrapped over the top. She shuddered, but a thought from her President side made her ask worriedly, "What did you do with the humans that were in prison?"

Megatron was surprised by her question, answering it monotonously "I had them disposed of." His strides took them towards the gates that barely reached his hips, "Why do you ask?" He wondered if she thought him incompetent and the notion came as a grand offense.

"N-no reason," she stammered, partially relieved. Such a population, moreso the high-security ones, would only compound the suffering already felt by the human race. Nevertheless she was insulted, the words  _disposed of_  sounding as if he was talking about taking out the trash. Though they were criminals, rapists, and murderers they were still human beings - if only in name.

No slaves were in sight and the air was quiet, the sound of birds or anything living absent and only the sway of the pine trees filled the void.

A double line of supervisors were waiting to greet them beyond the open gates. Each stood stiffly, their ten-foot bodies dwarfed by Megatron's enormous one. A few were shaking slightly, and to her surprise she was placed on the ground. "Go on," he encouraged gently, standing tall again.

She obeyed, walking between the columns, servos clasped in front of her and cape billowing behind. As she passed them each bent into a deep bow, their black armor gleaming in the sun. They had all buffed and polished themselves thoroughly, and she was a little impressed that they had done so for her.  _Or is it for him?_

Megatron followed her, very slowly to compensate for her tiny legs, looking down at his subordinates with stern optics. The black Decepticon insignia on the back of her cloak made his lip components jump in a fleeting smirk.  _My Queen._

His footsteps shook the ground, making it difficult for her to cover ground without stumbling. However, she could tell that he was trying to be considerate since the shocks were smaller than normal.

Barricade stood at the end of the line in front of a large metal building, servos folded in front of him. "My Empress," he greeted, lowering his optics. She could tell, plain as day, that he did not want to show such humility to  _her_ , a mere  _human_ -turned-transformer, but Megatron's words came back to her.

 _You will be honored as an extension of myself._ In other words, they would fear  _her_  because they feared  _him_. A trespass against  _her_  was a trespass against  _him_ , and she had seen firsthand how he dealt with the most  _minor_  insubordinations.

Barricade was polished as immaculately as his charges were and she clenched her jaw when she saw  _Police_ on the sides of his arms.  _What a fucking disgrace._

" _My liege, when do you wish for her to speak?"_  Eleaniris tried not to react to being talked over as if she wasn't there.

" _The sooner she can soothe them, the better." Soothe?_ Blanching at the meaning, she groaned internally,  _Please, Lord, why me?_

Barricade nodded at his master's orders, stepping aside and holding out a servo for them to enter the doors. "Please, come this way."

The Emperor pushed open a door for his mate, striding in after her with Barricade on his tail. They walked through the spartan metal hallways and eventually Megatron tired of the slow pace.

Without warning she was literally swept off her pedes by his servo, which rose to cup her against the cool metal of his chassis. She huffed and crossed her arms again, frustrated at her lack of personal responsibility.

They reached a pair of windowless doors and he stopped before them. A smaller robot came up, bowed shakily and held out a tiny datapad. Megatron took it delicately in-between two massive claws before handing it to her. "Read this, precious. Take a moment to familiarize yourself with it, for it is your speech."

She accepted it, her optics resting on the screen. She tried not to cry at the contents, and she barely finished before there was a loud announcement as the doors parted. "Presenting the High Emperor and Supreme Commander Megatron and Empress Eleaniris of the Decepticon Empire!"

The sight that greeted her made her want to retch.

Thousands of brown-clad slaves peered up at her, not quite meeting her gaze. They were dirty and thin, looks those of men and women who had given up. A few looked angry, but many appeared sad and hopeless. Their eyes were empty and dark, submission written in their stance. Many held scars on their faces from the electrical whips she had seen used, while others had fresh ones that were an angry red.

They stood in a large, neat crowd, not daring to move. There was a stage erected so that she was higher than the slaves, and at bottom of the platform stood a line of supervisors between them and her, a symbol of the gap between herself and her people. Between sovereign and slave.

Her mind corrected,  _We are all slaves here. Though he may call me a Queen, that is not who I am._

_I am the Slave Queen._

Overall the scene and the speech she held reminded her of the victory tour of the Capitol. Her mind recalled in a grim haze:

" _The Victory Tour makes that impossible. Strategically placed almost midway between the annual Games, it is the Capitol's way of keeping the horror fresh and immediate. Not only are we in the districts forced to remember the iron grip of the Capitol's power each year, we are forced to celebrate it."_  (1)

_Keeping. The. Horror._ _**Fresh** _ _. And._ _**Immediate** _ _._

She was overwhelmingly disgusted, and it was when he set her down at the front of the platform and stepped back that she knew she would not say the words he had put in her mouth.

She  _could_  not say them. She could not betray her people in such a way.

And so she let the datapad click off, lowering it to her side, much to Megatron's wariness. She scanned the masses, despair rolling off them in waves and absent was the glimmer of hope that she had seen before. She failed to see a man in the back, wearing brown but missing the defeated look of the Decepticon slave.

Tears slipped out of her optics as she mourned, "I did all I could, but I couldn't save her. I am reminded of that  _every_  day, and I'm sorry." She said them clearly, pouring all of her despair and hurt over them so that her people could understand that she did not want to be  _his_  consort. She had  _never_  wanted  _any_  of this.

They were the first words to come to mind, and they summarised her feelings perfectly.

Many of the Decepticons were too dense to understand who " _her"_ was, but Megatron did. He was unsure of where this was going, and so he stood back and watched carefully while readying himself to scoop her up if needed.

All was silent for several seconds, and then a familiar whistle sounded from the middle of the crowd. An old, weathered hand rose, pinkie behind the thumb and the middle three fingers straight.  _No, no, no! Don't, please!_

They did not hear her silent plea and more hands rose to join the original. A chill went down her back as every slave saluted her, their eyes conveying their understanding.

There was a pause before the line of supervisors drew out their whips in unison, an ominous crackling filling the air as the metal charged.

"Stop!" She cried out, whipping around and craning her neck to look up at Megatron, "Please!"

He raised an optic ridge, optics shifting from her to the slaves to the supervisors and coming to rest on her again. "Stand down." He ordered mildly. She could hear the tick of that gear on his lower leg - the one that spasmed when he was angry - as he picked her up and went back through the doors, throwing them open so that they hit the walls with a loud bang.

He was so furious that he was quiet and she braced herself to be roared at. "Eleaniris," he growled lowly, bringing her to his faceplates, "What."

"Was." His optics flared with his wrath, casting an angry red glow over her body,

" _That_?" His fangs gleamed dangerously under the alien light of the hallway and a hot cloud of breath billowed from his mouth, much like an angry bull would snort.

A 40-foot, ten ton,  _irate_  bull.

"I-I was just-" she stammered, trying to refrain from cowering.

"Just  _what?_ Blatantly disobeying me?" he hissed, spattering her with his saliva-like fluids.

"I thought that what I said was more appropriate than what was prepared." She clenched her jaw and tried not to cower, steadying herself.

"Was that not an act of  _rebellion_?" His denta gnashed and parted, small strings connecting them as he breathed over her. He implied,  _You know what I do to rebels._

"Yes," she admitted quietly, "But can you please understand?"

He saw her sincerity, the wide grey optics staring at him with fear that he hated, and so decided not to press her on the matter. It was a dead-end discussion anyway, for what was done was done.

"And what of their gesture?" He interrogated, having found several rude signals that humans could send with their tiny fingers.

"What they did was, in fact,  _very_  respectful."  _Considering that you tried to make it look as if I_ _ **chose**_   _to be your bride._

His optics narrowed, and she hastily explained from memory, ""It is an old and rarely used gesture of our culture, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration." (1)

Her mind finished solemnly,  _It means goodbye to someone you love._

"They were trying to thank me for what I said." Pausing, she asked innocently, "Why  _did_  you want me to speak?" He took it as a rhetorical question - which it wasn't - and ignored it.

His optics had softened a tinge, "Do not do that again. I will overlook this time," she let relaxed wires that she hadn't known were tense, "But in the future, you  _will_  read what is put in front of you, or there  _will_  be consequences. Is that clear?"

She nodded, averting her gaze to her lap. He nuzzled her against one of his cheek rims, purring, "I don't like having to punish you, my little flower. Don't do that again." He hated that she was so  _adorable_ , that his anger could vaporize so  _easily_  with a single glance from her tiny, perfect, grey optics.

She made no verbal or physical reply, letting him hold her to his face and shake her with his deep purrs. She instead focused on trying to keep from crying from the suffering and despair she had seen, from the fate that had befallen her people because of the being cuddling her to his cheek contentedly.

Outside, as the murmuring slaves were being herded back to their respective duties, the man slipped away from them and under the hole in the fence, finding his horse in the woods and riding with the message to Nation. He smiled and, as he kneed his horse into a gallop, thought  _The Mockingjay lives!_

* * *

The hundreds of camp supervisors had all gathered in the front by the gates as Barricade presented her with the gift.

A velvet pouch of sapphires was given to her, each cut pristinely and colored dark shades of blue. "Taken from our own mines, my lady," the slave master bowed, "a humble addition to your wealth."

"Thank you." she said politely, putting them away in the bag and faking a smile.  _Bloody_ monsters _. Do they truly have no clue?_

Megatron bent and picked her up, pushing her against his chassis and staring at his subordinates expectantly.

"All hail Megatron!" They saluted sharply, and a pleased Megatron transformed around her and took off.

She was silent, staring at the drawstring bag in her servo. "You said that I have a subspace, right?"

He broke through the bank of clouds, wisps of them hitting the glass, "Yes."

"Will you teach me how to use it?" she asked warily, not quite sure of how he was feeling at the moment.

"Yes." His voice was completely unemotional, a rare occurrence for leader who always seemed full of passion.

"Think about it going into a pocket, and raise it to your chest." She tried, dimming her optics as she focused. Lifting her servo, she tried to tuck it away as one would do with a shirt pocket.

It vanished from her palm, and her gasp sent sparks of pleasure through his systems. Yes, he could not wait until she was making  _that_  sound for him, sprawled underneath  _him_  on  _his_  berth as he-

"How old are you, exactly?" Her sweet voice broke the dream, but he shrugged it away and diverted his attention to the feeling of her sitting inside him.

She had read in the Sector Seven folders several things about him and the cube that brought up more questions than they answered. Appeasement was her only course of action right now and so she begrudgingly fed the crocodile, knowing that this one would  _very much_  like to eat her.

"A million years, more or less. I have lost count." He grinned amusedly as her jaw dropped - he was glad to have lowered the number so as not to make her too intimidated.

"Really?"

"Really-really." he purred.

"Huh. And how long have you been leading the Decepticons?"

"Several thousands and thousands of years, precious. I do not not rightfully know the exact period." he considered for a moment, chuckling, "I am sure Soundwave could tell you, if you are that curious."

"Do you think I could, maybe, learn more about your history? As a race, I mean?" Megatron pondered her question, weighing his options. Any material given to her for her to look over would have to be extremely edited to completely hide the Autobots from her. He liked to think that he knew his little femme well, and if she knew of Prime…

The thought of his archnemesis swooping  _his_  Eleaniris off her pedes and making  _her_  swoon made his Energon boil.  _Mine!_

No, there was no possibility for that. He would not allow it.  _He_  had claimed her first, and so she was  _his_  to keep.

"I believe that can be arranged. A tour of the library is in order, is it not?"

"You have a library?"

He smirked at her delighted smile, remembering what she had studied at the human universities. "Indeed, precious."

Yes, his little history major would have all of the heavily-edited information she desired. Making a mental note to comm. Soundwave later, he sped up for their next destination through the early evening sky.

* * *

She couldn't believe the sheer size of the place.

Tens of thousands of pairs of eyes looked at her, anguish and desolation digging into her metal hide like thousands of needles.

Sure she had to read the speech. She didn't have to  _like_  it.

Sending them a look that she hoped conveyed her own despair and sorrow, she began the words that sounded like they came right out of the  _Hunger Games_  script:

"Humans may live to serve," she wanted to choke, a tear slipping down her cheek, "But that does not mean that the service has to be painful. Obedience will be rewarded with life, and disobedience will be punished with death. Too many have already died in this pointless fight, so choose wisely, homo sapiens."

"We are all of us united, both flesh and metal, in serving a common purpose: The  _power_  and  _glory_  of the Decepticon Empire." She laced as much sarcasm as she could into the speech, her heart constricting in pain as if she was gouging it herself.

"The Empire today, the Empire tomorrow, the Empire forever." She said it as if reading from a drilling manual, wanting to wither up and die at the words that tasted like rotting flesh and cold metal.

Her words had no effect; the end result was the same. They saluted her, raising their left fingers to their lips and holding them high. They stayed there as Megatron picked her up and kissed her on her crown for all of her people to see, to observe with utmost horror and misery.

A brave soul started to sing as the slaves were herded out, and several others picked it up until they were all singing mournfully in a tone that chilled her to the core.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Wear a necklace of hope_

_Side by side with me_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met at midnight_

_In the hanging tree_

Megatron did not seem to care what they were doing, though he did watch with some interest. She covered her left wrist, remembering the bone there that would forever remind her of her origins. The slaves continued to march out in groups of single-file columns, back to the shelters.

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where dead man called out_

_For his love to flee_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met at midnight_

_In the hanging tree_

"You did well, my dear. Now, was it so hard to listen?" he practically cooed at her, stroking her back as he reentered the large building. This camp, since it seemed to house a larger population, had even bigger edifices.  _You have no idea how hard it was. Not a fucking clue._

Eleaniris was not one to curse, finding it low class. However, she  _was_  one to acknowledge that there was a time for everything.

Including cursing.

He walked into another room, one lit with several colored lights and packed with supervisors of varying sizes. A few came up to Megatron's chest height, but many were smaller. All rose from their seats around the room to greet them with bows, but her optics were on the scattered pedestals the seating was around.

_Pole dancers. Lord, end my misery now._

Each of the young women had been adorned with a stripper's outfit that bared silvery scars from their enslavement. Dancing lewdly and swirling around the poles, she caught the eyes shining with despair before they looked away.

Eyes that begged for her help.

She did her duty, pulling out the Slave Queen act and shoving President Sherman in the closet. She accepted the gift of light green peridots with her servos but not with her heart, knowing they were the labor of her enslaved people.

The night was a blur of robotic faces congratulating and complimenting her as she milled about the room, Megatron having placed her down. Conversations in Cybertronian caught her audio, all along the lines of " _How could such a small thing possibly interface with him?"_ and " _How is she still alive?"_

The worst of all was, " _I call dibbs on her when Megatron decides he is done with her."_

But that one Megatron must have heard, because one second the Decepticon was laughing and the next his helm was missing from his shoulders, sparks flying from the neck.

He held up the helm in one servo and the body in the other, roaring with a force that she felt in her chest, " _Those who challenge me for Eleaniris will meet a dark end!"_ He dropped them like trash and swept the room with his gaze, " _She is mine, and_ _ **only**_   _mine. Understood?"_ They did, nodding their helms so fast she thought they would fly off. " _Good_."

Remembering that she wasn't supposed to hear that, she cocked her helm and did her best to appear perplexed. His optics softened when they turned to her, and he knelt and gestured for her to approach him.

"What was that all about?" She questioned, stopping between his knees as the music continued and the robots went back to their activities.

He chuckled, lightly stroking her back once, "Nothing, my dear. He challenged your authority."  _But that's not what happened at all. He challenged_ _ **you**_ _, not_ _ **me**_ _._

"Now, go back to socializing. Your subjects adore you."  _You mean lust after me._

As Megatron stood and turned away from her, a gleam out of the corner of her optic made her turn her helm.

A human-sized door.

Not quite sure what she was doing but knowing that she didn't want to be seen, she slyly crept through the crowd and double-checked Megatron over her shoulder.

He wasn't watching.

Quickly she left, finding herself in the cool night air under the twinkling stars. Staying out of the light, she moved through the shadows around the perimeter of the building, pausing every so often to listen for patrols. An idea popped in her head, and a devilish grin grew on her face.  _Let's get the districts fired up._

The slave shelters resembled warehouses, and she supposed that they were not that different inside either. Most, if not all of the supervisors, were inside the party and the grounds were empty. Knowing that she would be missed, she put a little more pep in her step towards the nearest building.

Nearing the door, she heard hushed voices discussing animatedly from within. Pushing it open warily and wondering why it wasn't locked in the first place, she stood in the doorframe and stared.

They were huddled in a single group, sitting around a young man who looked as if he had just stopped speaking. The only source of light came from a single dim overhead light that cast a yellow glow over the room. Gasps and whispers moved through the few hundred slaves like wildfire, and she stepped cautiously into the room and shut the door.

"Madame President? Is it really you?" A middle aged woman came up to her, her mouth open and her dirty face pale. She raised a hand to touch her arm, as if to make sure she was really there and not an apparition.

"Of  _course_  it's not her!" A man had stood, his hair long and matted, "That is a  _fiend_ , a  _traitor_!" He narrowed his eyes at her, pointing accusatorily, "Have you come to brag, my  _Queen_? Have you come to see us grovel at your feet?" He sneered, baring yellow teeth and breaking her heart as other slaves nodded and jeered in agreement.

"Please, I don't have much time!" She held up two palms, trying to move through them. "Please, listen to me." It came out much lower than the first statement, almost a whisper.

"I didn't  _choose_  any of this. I didn't want  _any_  of this to happen." She had been given access to the center, and she spun steadily to address all of them.

"I lost someone too. Those bastards took my sister from me, my  _lovely little sister_ , in Chicago." Tears ran down her face for the millionth time that day, "I got to watch her death over the surveillance system, I got to see her pulled apart like a piece of  _string cheese_."

She paused to let it sink in, "And if any of you think that I  _chose_  to be his bloody Queen, you are sorely mistaken. If you think I  _chose_  to betray you, to turn myself over to that  _monster_ , I clearly did not make the impression I thought I did as your President."

The young man that had been speaking when she entered stood, looking at her curiously, "Are you fighting Katniss? Are you here to fight with us?"

She almost smiled bitterly at the line, as if this was all just a game, "I am."

Holding up her left wrist to show them the bone set there she said clearly, "I will."

The crowd stood, and instead of applause saluted her, hope rekindling in their eyes once again.

"Remember, all of you," she walked in a circle, keeping her wrist high, "That hope is stronger than fear."

As she walked to the back of the door, the man that had challenged her before whistled the Mockingjay tune to her, followed suit by the gathering in unison.

* * *

Every slave camp had a different gift of local precious stones and different number of slaves, but she did her best to make sure the outcome was always the same.

She managed to sneak out of the little parties and speak to her people, to fill them with hope once more. To reassure them that she was still on their side by showing them the bone in her wrist.

The speech was spoken with the same tone, but some camps were more rebellious than others. At one in Africa, after she had been given a different language pack by Megatron to assist her in communicating, a woman had dared to shout, "Tell us what you really think!"

Her head was promptly filled with a laser shot from one of the slave masters.

Though there were some dissenters, the large majority at every camp saluted her at the end of her speech, rebelling before Megatron himself. The symbol came to reassure her, too, that the human race still backed her.

She smiled ruefully at the thought as she fell into recharge on Megatron's chest. Even though she was disheartened and insulted by what she had seen her people living in, she still had hope.

_And so the Slave Queen rebels against the Enslaving King._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few notes:
> 
> Citations with (1) refer to direct quotes from the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. Also, the end of Eleaniris' written speech is the one from Catching Fire movie but with a few words switched out.
> 
> In Eleaniris' head, she refers to Megatron as a crocodile. This is a reference to a quote by Winston Churchill: "An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last." Meaning that she knows that Megatron will end up devouring her anyway (oooh, sexy), but in stalling she might accomplish something.
> 
> Reviews keep the god of unfinished stories at bay!


	34. The Victory Tour, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.   
> I do not own Prince of Egypt, from which several themes are used here. Sexy scene in the beginning, but really just innuendos. And touching. Scattered cursing.

Megatron came out of recharge slowly, letting his optics focus properly. Though the quarters they had been given for their stay were simple and spartan, he had found them satisfactory for himself and his little Empress. A large window showed the sands of Egypt, the pyramids in the distance with a rising sun behind.

Last night he had seen her interest in them, and so had taken her to the top of the largest to look at the stars.

_She sat on his shoulder, staring quietly up at the scattered stars of the milky way_

" _You know, this pyramid here was said to be topped with gold?" He watched her, letting her continue._

" _I think that's interesting. No one knows what actually happened to the capstone, but that is what is rumored." He nodded, observing her as she prattled on about the pyramids and stars._

_The light from the galaxy above them illuminated her metal softly, casting shadows and making her appear otherworldly - more than she was already, anyway. His spark ached for when she would gladly welcome him, beg for his touch and kiss him passionately with her tiny mouth. He thought that she was starting to warm up to him, but knew that it could be a while before he got there._

A murmur and something shifting on his chest brought his gaze downwards to the tiny femme recharging on his chassis.

It was quite a sight, her body slightly curled as she lay on her side, one arm propping up her helm. She had left her cape on - he supposed that she did not know how to detach it - and it covered only a part of her topmost thigh. Shifting her so that she was closer to his faceplates, he grinned lustfully and parted his lip components. As an afterthought he unclipped her cloak and set it aside, sighing at her slim, bare back.

His glossa slipped out of his mouth and he passed it over her exposed backplates, purring at the taste.

Eleaniris moaned as the mystery lover brought his hands up and caressed her shoulder blades with large, smooth hands. She could not see him, but she could tell that they were both human in her dream.

Encouraged by her sounds he picked her up gently and rolled over, placing her on the berth and baring her stomach. He bent to let his glossa conquer the smooth metal, lapping gently and spreading slime over her with each swipe of his glossa. She was beginning to smell like him, and it was making his spike pressurize and his cod piece tighten.

She sighed in stasis, the man having lifted her up so that he could kiss her belly. Her hands ran over his head and pushed him further into her slim midsection.

His surprise must have shown on his faceplates when her little servos latched on to his metal tongue and tried to pull him closer, although failing because of her size. Chuckling, he obliged, lowering so that her belly was practically pressed against his lip components. He sucked lightly, the strength of it making her rise off the berth slightly and he almost moaned himself at her exquisite texture and flavor.

Eleaniris felt his head move down to her lower abdomen, almost kissing her loins. Frustrated and  _very_ aroused, she forcefully pushed his head downwards towards it.

Megatron could barely contain himself as she tried to direct him to her interface panel. Eagerly he complied, removing her skirt and elegant pelvic plating and putting them next to the cape on the nightstand. He leaned back to look at the wonderful and erotic picture she made, his sparkmate groaning in stasis for him to continue.

Burning the sight into his memory banks, he separated her thighs easily with a digit and bent to lick at her interface panel, pushing with a force that made her rock in place. His glossa was so large that it was difficult to manage fitting in the small space between her legs, and he had to fold the flexible metal slightly. He purred, unconsciously sending a vibration up through the sensitive sensors in her pelvis.

Something was different, and she frowned. His tongue seemed  _far_ too big for a human's, and that  _purr… Oh my God._ Realization and horror flooded her, quickly sweeping away the lust and arousal.

Her optics shot open, and the scene that greeted her both scared and angered her.  _ **He**_ was lapping at her like a hungry animal would a piece of meat, the strength of his tongue making her rub against the metal of the berth underneath her. His forearms lay on either side of her, suspending him above her while he hunched over. He didn't seem to realize that she was awake, and her optics widened as she felt him scoop her up and move to press her nether regions to his enormous mouth.

"S-st-stop!" she managed to stutter, trying to press her legs together. The slick metal of his thick glossa was making it difficult to do so, however.

He obliged, setting her down on the berth once more and rumbling. "Good morning, precious. You were quite the little morsel to wake up to." He leered at her, sliding his tongue over his lip components hungrily to illustrate his meaning. She shivered and covered herself with her servos, grimacing at the slick residue she felt there.  _Him and his bloody_ _ **glossa**_ _._

Flabbergasted, she shouted, "You took  _advantage_ of me!  _Why_?!"

Above, he cocked his massive helm at her, genuinely perplexed, "I thought you were enjoying it."

She groaned, covering her face with a servo as she realized what must have happened. "I was dreaming. That's it."

"Dreaming?" he pressed, raising an optic ridge.

"Yes," she moaned in mortification and embarrassment, "I was in it, and there was this man…" She trailed off, shaking her helm.

" _What_ man?" he snarled lowly, thinking of her former mate. Hopefully Shockwave had disposed of the fleshbag in the way that was intended.

His optics had hardened and burned with distaste, as she stammered, "I-I don't know who he was. He was just r-really  _big_."  _And strong._ "I d-didn't know him, or see his face."

 _Was she dreaming of_ _ **me**_ _?_ He let his orbs soften as he purred.

Megatron sighed contentedly, stroking her helm with a claw, "I believe you. Besides you taste very good, my dear, and I'm afraid that my glossa craves you now."  _What kind of_ _ **creep**_ _is he?_

"I will not do that again, though. I would much prefer to have you awake and aware of what I am doing." He did not tell her that he was hurt that her lust vanished as soon as she saw him; that his  _sparkmate_  didn't want his touch.

His huge servo curled around her, reminding her of his size and dominance over her as he sat back and then stood. Although she knew it was just a misunderstanding, she still gushed "Do you know what kind of  _pervert_ you were being?"

Megatron chuckled down at her and made her anger worse. "You, my  _little_ ,  _ **delicious**_ Empress, are my  _mate_. I was showing you affection that I thought you desired."

She humphed, crossing her arms and trying to calm the shivers of revulsion sliding through her body. "I was asleep. Some kind of affection," she muttered.

Agitated by her stubbornness, he growled, "Do humans not show care for each other in a similar way? According to my research, they do."

"And  _where_ did you do your 'research'?  _Fifty Shades of Grey_?" She clapped a servo over her mouth in mortification of what she had just said, optics wide.  _Stupid,_ _ **stupid**_ _,_ _ **stupid**_ _,_ she chastised herself,  _If he didn't know about that before, he does_ _ **now**_ _._

He was quiet, confusion on his face while staring at her questioningly. She covered her optics and groaned, missing the leering grin that slowly grew on his lip components.

"I will keep note of that for next time we  _play_ ," he purred, running a finger down her back.

"N-nononono. I'm not that  _k-kind_  of girl, and I-I  _d-didn't_  want t-this." Her stuttering was embarrassing, but even more so was the fact that he knew about those  _activities_ now, thanks to her inability to keep her mouth shut.

Taking a breath - or, rather, trying to - she calmed herself before asking, "Please, give me back my clothing."

"Armor," he corrected gently, picking up her skirt plates and giving them to her.  _Some "armor" that is._

"I understand, precious. I will wait for you." the lust was gone from his soft red orbs, and a pleasurable yank in her chest at his calm tone confused her.  _No. I will_ _ **hate**_ _you for as long as I live for what you have done._

His faceplates darkened as she said defiantly "I would rather go out with the  _ **plague**_ than go out with  _ **you**_." With that snarl, she curled into a ball in the center of his servo and promptly cried.

She wept for the destruction of her home, for her people, for the  _dignity_  he had stolen when he made them slaves.

And when he made her his  _Queen_ , his  _bride_ , his  _ **mate**_.  _What sick form of conquering_ is  _this? Why must you crush my people beneath your enormous heel and_ **then**   _take their leader to your bed? Is my planet not_ **enough**   _to satiate your hunger?_

It disgusted and saddened her to no end and she ignored him as he pressed her shuddering form to his cheek, purring to ty to soothe her. Instead it made her cry harder and she let out a loud wail, sounding like a ghost. He cooed, his spark wrenching painfully at her distress.

"Don't cry, precious. It's okay."  _No, it's_ _ **not**_ _okay._

She wanted to scream all of the reasons her heart bled but she knew it would be no use. Her cries would fall on deaf audios, for the conquerer can  _never_  see from the perspective of the conquered.

He would  _never_  understand.

The titanic Decepticon held her until her weeping subsided and she was making no sound. "I  **promise**  that I won't do anything like that unless I am  **sure**  that you want it, alright?" He knew that she was still deathly afraid of him, and that at this point only actions - not words - would take that away.  _Frag it. Why must I always mess this up?_

Opting to accept his compromise, she nodded and tried to wipe away her tears, which had continued to run silently down her face. "Now, I know you are longing to go home but we only have  _two_  more trips."

He kissed her helm gently in an effort to reassure and calm her. "Just two more." She sighed and uncurled herself but remained limp and lifeless in his servo, tears still making trails down her cheeks.

Realizing that she was still holding her skirt plating, she reattached it with a click. She could feel his saliva - or whatever it was - all over her body and it made her grimace. It was starting to become a thick residue as it dried, similar to snot, and she asked "Do you have anything I could wipe myself down with? Maybe a damp cloth?"

Megatron held back the urge to chuckle at her obvious discomfort from his slime, answering "Yes, I believe I can do something about that."  _In time you will learn to like it._

Walking to the door and lowering her to his chest, he rumbled to the guard outside to fetch a bowl of water and a small cloth. Eleaniris heard the guard scuttle away, probably in fear, and couldn't help but chuckle dismally.

He went to the desk by the window and set her down, taking the opportunity to walk away slightly and speak quietly to Soundwave.

" _Soundwave_!"

" _My liege?"_ Soundwave was quick to respond, as always.

" _I wish that several materials and data pads be prepared for Eleaniris from the library. She has requested to have some history lessons and I want those to be heavily, ah,_ proofread,  _if you understand."_

" _Yes, I will start immediately with the material. Is there anything I should watch for?"_

" _The Autobots. Megatron out."_

It was perfect timing, as a hesitant knock came at the door. "Enter."

A shaking drone came in, carrying a metal bowl of steaming water and several white cloths. "M-my lord," he bowed, nearly spilling the water.

"Place it on the table." he rolled his optics as the subordinate did so and backpedaled out the door.

Turning to Eleaniris, he dipped his helm and indicated the bath. "I will give you your privacy. Comm. me when you are done."

He was halfway out the door when her voice stopped him in his tracks. "Comm.?"

He half-smiled, remembering that she knew nothing about her body yet. The Emperor looked at her over his shoulder, "It's like a radio, precious. You can use it to make calls."

"How?"

"Just think of who you want to speak to, initiate a command sequence, and make the comm. Try it right now."

The Empress shuttered her optics, furrowing her optic ridges in concentration.  _Initiating sequence._

" _Cool!"_ he smiled as her voice came through his end.

" _Good. Now, end it by initiating another sequence."_

She did, willing a command prompt to open in her helm and letting the call drop. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You are most welcome, my precious." The door slid shut behind him, and she was left alone.

She stripped and practically collapsed in the small bowl, sloshing some of the contents over the side.  _If he didn't care, he wouldn't have stopped,_ the voice of Stockholm - as she had come to call it - tried to soothe.

The fear she had felt when she had awoken was a grain of sand compared to what she felt now.

For she could not argue with, nor deny, that statement.

And so the Slave Queen washed herself in the bath, trying to forget what had happened and bury it deep in her memory. But the fire he had ignited in her loins and her chest would not be snuffed out, and she was left to her emotional  _confusion_  instead of emotional  _numbness_.

* * *

"I said no, Scorponok. You  **cannot**  have a human femme." Megatron had grown tired of the ever-increasing amount of requests he had received for personal human entertainers. The scorpion's tail wilted slightly as he scurried away.

When the Decepticons had conquered this planet, they had thought humans primitive beings without a purpose but to do menial labor tasks. That had changed, however, when Soundwave had brought to his attention a video of a human female moving gracefully and smoothly in an aesthetically pleasing way.

He had not known humans could move in such a manner, could bend and sway in their "dancing." Humans had made themselves useful in another way, as dancers and entertainers for their invaders. Soundwave had also shown him several other types of dancing, some more suggestive than others. He knew that bored soldiers were destructive ones, and therefore allowed the making of a new type of slave.

The music was also a factor of Earth that the Decepticons made their own. Musicians of all types became a demand, and Soundwave had demonstrated that his human "assistant", Gra-something, could trill her organic vocals in a particularly soothing tone. The officer had informed him that it was something all humans could do, this singing, but some had better talent than others.

Although he had cyberformed Eleaniris in secret, recognition that she was once human was inevitable. Her size was the main factor that gave it away, but also the knowledge that the Allspark only gave mechs was another clue. Taking her to the camps had allowed the masses to see what was possible with a human femme, and many had tried to persuade him to allow them to take some for themselves.

These requests were refused, some taking it harder than others, and Megatron knew that he could face a rebellion if he didn't do  _something_  about it. But the action was postponed nonetheless.

After double-checking with Shockwave that the forces were ready, he made the way back to his temporary quarters, knowing that she should be ready to comm. him.

She did, and he smiled at her hesitant voice, " _I-I'm done."_

" _Already on my way, beautiful. Megatron out."_ She bit her lip as her chest fluttered again at the deep voice in her head.

* * *

"Where are we going now?" She inquired, not really caring but asking for the sake of killing the deafening silence. A slave camp was a slave camp; it made no difference  _where_  it was.

"South Africa, my sweet." She tensed, remembering that morning's episode.

"Now, close your optics. I want to surprise you." She sighed, listening and thinking  _You can't really surprise me anymore,_ _ **sadist**_ _._

He dropped below the clouds, smiling at the scene below. He landed and transformed, catching her in a servo. "You can open them, my dear."

She did, ready for what she  _thought_  she was going to see, but not what she  _actually_  saw.

They were standing on a flat-topped hill - a dolerite sill, she thought they were called - overlooking the masses of Decepticons of every size and build that seemed to stretch to the horizon in all directions. Their forms of different colors gleamed under the sun as they shifted and stared at her.

If she had skin, she would have paled to a shade whiter than the moon. Depression, helplessness, powerlessness, and terror seemed to take the place of Energon in her tanks until she felt that she was drowning in it.

_This is the army that conquered my planet. This is the army that he commands. This is the army that feasts upon the Earth and bleeds her dry as they rape her for their own sadistic pleasure and satisfaction._

He purred as her jaw dropped, mistaking her absolute horror for awe. "Decepticons!" he bellowed with a force that rattled and deafened her, "Behold your Queen!" He rose the servo holding her above him as the millions encompassing them cheered for  _her_.

For their  _Slave Queen_.

He basked in his victory, watching his forces triumphantly. He held up his other servo, and their roars died down.

"Behold Empress Eleaniris of the Decepticon Empire, former President of the United States!" It was habit to humiliate her in front of his followers, and he had forgotten for a nanoclick that she was no longer a human. She flinched and Megatron almost faltered, wanting to kick himself for what he had just let slip.

" _I didn't mean to say that, my flower."_ he tried to comm. her.

He didn't get an answer.

Countless pairs of red optics settled on her respectfully, and she still couldn't believe the scope and size of the army gathered before her.  _And this isn't even all of them._

As her absolute helplessness consumed her in their commander's palm, she wept internally  _How did we_ _ **ever**_   _think that_ we _, mere_ **humans** _, could win? We are hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered, there is no other option but to bow, but to kneel before him and_ beg  _for his mercy._

Megatron was not privy to her depressing thoughts as he gestured with a servo. Immediately, the army around them kneeled and bowed their helms for their Queen.

_Maybe, just maybe, it is not them I am fighting._

_Maybe I can get by with just fighting him._

The chant of "All protect the Queen!" sealed the deal as she scanned the horizon with her optics. Yes, they did go that far out, and the ones that way seemed like ants.

The deafening, slightly louder cry of "All hail Megatron!" closed her fate.

* * *

"Did they please you?" he asked quietly, eager to hear her opinion as they flew back to North America at his top speed.

 _No. They depressed me beyond what I felt already._ "Yes."

Megatron picked up on the fear in her tone, but did not find the true source of it. He consoled gently, "You don't need to be scared of them, Eleaniris.  _I_  command them  _all_ , and they will not lay a single  _claw_  on you."

 _You're missing the point, just like you did months ago you bastard._ She did not reply and tried to numb herself again, as had become her protective mechanism.

"Recharge, Eleaniris. We will get there in the afternoon."

Her mind wandered aimlessly as she slept, random memories floating past. She would only remember one dream when she awoke though, one dream that had made her realize what she must do.

* * *

The city was huge, even if it was only partly built. Massive alien buildings stood under construction by human slaves, and only one of them looked to be mostly complete.

She was standing on the roof of that exception, next to Megatron's enormous pede as he spoke with Soundwave in Cybertronian. She could not be bothered to listen to his planning, however, as she watched the construction.

It was the largest single slave labor force she had seen, that she knew. She estimated them to be in the hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, wearing the brown of the common slave and the scars of electrical whips. She tried to look away as one was beaten to the ground by a supervisor for having collapsed under the strain of the metal they were trying to move.

Eleaniris knew that  _he_  only saw the things they were building, not the slaves themselves. Glancing up at him, she saw that he was immersed in his discussion, gesturing to several elements on the holographic display of a finished city that was projected by the table above her.

Sneaking away and back to the automatic doors, she made her way down the smaller staircase to the second or third floor and over to a hole where a window would be placed. The whole wall was missing, probably awaiting a large pane of glass being made somewhere by other slaves.

She let the tears fall as she watched her race toil for their invaders, for the Earth's rapists. A few slaves had seen her crying, recognized her from the coronation a little over two weeks ago, and began to sing.

Slowly the song grew louder, rising to her from the ones in the endless lines below, bearing metal on their backs for the buildings ahead. The lyrics came to her from a childhood movie, tying in perfectly with her dream.

_With the sting of the whip on my shoulder_

A man fell as the back of his uniform was cut open by a slave master's whip, which crackled and shimmered with electrical charge.

_With the salt of my sweat on my brow_

_Eleanor, Queen on high_

They had altered the song, just for her. The supervisors didn't seem to care, a few even smirking as the  _human slaves_  sang their despair for someone the Decepticons knew was powerless.

_Can you hear your people cry:_

_Help us now_

_This dark hour…_

It was strange, hearing so many sing an obviously practiced song.

_Deliver us!_

_Hear our call_

_Deliver us!_

_Queen of all_

_Remember us, here in this burning sand_

_Deliver us_

_There's a land that was promised us_

_Deliver us to the promised land…_

A group of men, several hundred in number, were working on her level in a building across from her, trying to haul a column into place. They strained against the weight, pulling the ropes with all of their might and making little progress. A supervisor whipped one of the men, and his pained scream pierced her audios and made her cry harder.

_Deliver us!_

_Hear our prayer_

_Deliver us!_

_From despair_

_These years of slavery grow_

_too cruel to stand_

_Deliver us!_

_There's a land that was promised us_

_Deliver us!_

The voices swelled emotionally, and footsteps from above her made her run to the staircase again. She couldn't let him see her like this, weeping for the fall and suffering of the human race.

_Out of bondage and_

_Deliver us to the promised land..._

Eleaniris tore through the streets, wanting to stay away from him. She knew that he would find her anyway, but any seconds she got to herself would be much appreciated.

"Madame! Come this way!" a woman seized her by the arm, eyes flicking back and forth and pulling her into a narrow space between two canisters.

"Where are you taking me?" Eleaniris whispered, hearing Megatron call her name.

"There are people that want to see you," she answered back, moving through the shadows of various containers and avoiding supervisors.

It was a miracle that no one stopped them as the woman managed to make it through the outskirts. It was then that Eleaniris finally saw that she was not wearing the customary slave outfit.

This woman was spy. Perhaps someone sent by Nation.

The outside of the city still held old buildings from before the Invasion which had yet to be cleared for their overlords. They stood as empty, burned out shells, their gaping windows watching her like eyes.

The brunette yanked her towards an alley and through a pair of broken doors.

Eyes of a dozen children watched her, scared and dirty. Lennox stood in the middle of them, trying to console a few of the weeping ones. "What is -"

"We don't have time. Your  _mate_ is looking for you as we speak." Lennox interrupted, and as if to prove his point a familiar bellow and a crash sounded in the distance.

He looked at one of the children and said gently, "Go ahead, Kathy." A blonde girl rose, probably seven or eight, and walked towards her slowly and timidly, keeping her eyes down.

Eleaniris knelt, her heart breaking at the whip marks on her cheek.  _Whipping children? Fucking_ _ **monsters**_ _._

Kathy looked at her with young eyes that had seen more terrors than they deserved to, singing quietly:

_Come back someday_

_Come and deliver us, too..._

She jolted at the "too" part, more specifically at what it implied.

It implied that she was  _already_  safe,  _already_  secure.

 _Megatron has_ _ **never**_   _punished_ **me**   _severely. The worst thing he has done to punish me is to kill other humans in front of me. Even then, he "offlines" any of his subordinates that dare to even_ **speak** _of me in the wrong way. He feeds me and makes sure I have someplace to sleep, even gives me the chance to bathe and dress in privacy._

 _I_ **am**   _safe, in comparison to them._

The girl placed a crown over the one Megatron had given her, little daisies woven into the vine. A dirty grey star on ragged blue from an American flag was placed into her palm, and she curled her fingers over it protectively.

"We believe in you, madame President." she said timidly, stepping back.

"We all do," Lennox added, and looking up Eleaniris saw tears in his eyes. He came to her now, crouching and pushing several pieces of paper and a pen into her other servo. "You'll be needing this."

He gestured for the children to come, and the woman started to herd them out another door.

"Wait! Take me with you!" she cried, begging weakly, "Please, I don't want to go back with  _him_. You have no idea what he has done!"

 _Oh, I have an idea._ Lennox grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking his head sadly, "You  _must_  go. He will stop at  _nothing_  to get you back if you come."

Looking over his shoulder at the children, he said, "I lost my baby girl at the start of the Invasion, and I am trying to get these kids out of the city. But we must move, slave keepers are looking for them."

"Please, stay here. Go back to him and be strong for your people." He stepped back and saluted her, going after the kids with one last, sorry look in her direction.

She subspaced the crown, paper, and star before turning and leaving, her pedes dragging her back into the city. Her heart shattered into even smaller pieces upon seeing a teenage girl being whipped by a slave master. Her back was already raw and bleeding, and the slave master bent to pick her up by her hair. The girl thrashed and screamed, clawing at its servo as it stood to its 10-foot height.

A dark, twisted idea of revenge crept into her processor, and she shouted, "Hey!"

He stopped, turning to look at her with bright red orbs. The girl was dropped and she stumbled away, red drops of blood dotting the ground.

"Your master has been looking for you," he growled, coming towards her. Eleaniris played along, presenting him with her wrists.

"You had better take me, then." He did, enveloping her wrists with a servo and pulling her down the street. She listened carefully, timing her fight just right.

"Unhand me! I  _order_  you to stop!" she screamed just as Meagtron rounded one of the corners with Soundwave on his heel. Inside, she was grinning sadistically at the supervisor's expression of realization at what she was doing combined with Megatron's flashing red orbs.

" **STOP**!"

He ordered furiously, "Get."

He stepped towards them, the earth shaking from the force of his step, "Your."

He bent to their level, setting a servo down that cracked the old asphalt and baring his fangs maliciously, "Servo."

His optics burned into the supervisor, who tried to humble himself, "Off."

To put a cherry on top of her act, she whimpered in pretend pain and gave a little sob. He growled in response, "My."

He finished his gradual build in volume with a roar that made her step back, " **QUEEN**!"

The supervisor practically jumped away from her and stuttered, trying to explain pathetically, "I-I wa-was j-just-"

She interrupted quickly "Megatron!" She ran up to the side of his face, hugging him as best as her tiny frame would allow. She played the part of damsel-in-distress as best she could, "I-I was so scared! Suddenly he grabbed me and said something about Starscream and -"

Megatron purred, leaning into her touch and shushing her, "Ssshhh, I'm here now, precious. It's going to be okay." He removed her from his face, standing, grabbing the supervisor, and plopping her on his left shoulder next to the curve. She was given a perfect view of the shocked face of the drone as Megatron's orbs flashed with hate and he growled in his gravelly voice, "Starscream, hmm? You know what I do to traitors."

He grabbed ahold of the other half of the supervisor, pulling slowly and ignoring the protests from the smaller subordinate. He grinned evilly as the Decepticon was torn into two halves and he let the pieces fall to the ground, clattering against the asphalt.  _That's what you get for whipping_ _ **children**_ _, bastard._

He turned around, the slaves and supervisors alike stopped in place and gaping at him. "Well? Get back to work!" They all jumped back to their previous jobs and Megatron purred, leaning his helm against her on his shoulder.

"You want to go home now?" she nodded, tired of seeing slaves and wallowing in the misery they felt too. He picked her up gingerly from his shoulder, cradling her as he was about to transform.

"My liege!" Megatron turned around at Soundwave's request, raising an optic ridge.

"We were discussing a name?" Megatron appeared to think for a moment, slowly lowering his gaze to her.

"Eleanicon. The most beautiful  _city_  in the universe," he nuzzled her, not looking at Soundwave, "named after the most beautiful  _being_  in the universe." His optics were so soft, so tender, that she almost felt bad for deceiving him.

Almost.

"As you desire, Megatron." Soundwave bowed, typing something on the data pad he held.

Megatron transformed and flew the short distance to the palace, an emotionally confused Eleaniris in his cockpit.

* * *

She shuttered her optics, steadying herself for what she was going to ask. They had just finished watching something on Netflix, and she was lying on his chest.

"Megatron? Can I talk to you?"

He chuckled, his chassis vibrating slightly, "You don't have to ask, Eleaniris. What is it? Is it about what happened earlier?"

She looked down at the metal plating, tracing shapes onto it with a finger, "N-no, not that. You saved me, and that is what is important." She purposefully kept her gaze downwards, wanting to miss his smirk.

"Well, I have been thinking for a week or so, and, I know that you want me to be happy as a transformer but…" she looked up, letting tears fall, "I cannot let you keep my people in slavery."

"Please, let my people go." She sighed internally, knowing that this was the part she must play.

"First, they are no longer your people. You are a Cybertronian now, and the Decepticons are your people." Megatron's optics were still soft but his voice drew a hard line, "Second, the humans are slaves and  _only_  live to serve  _us_ , the Cybertronians." His finger wiped away her tears, "So do relax, Eleaniris. Recharge, my dear."

His optics dimmed and he rested his helm back, his venting slowing.

She clenched her jaw.  _You leave me no choice then._

Unsubspacing her paper and pen -  _Thank you, Lennox_ \- she wrote to Nation of Optimus Prime and the Autobots, finishing with a new Executive Order.

_Regarding Operation Exodus:_

_Since you refuse to free my people_

_All through the land of Egypt_

_I send a pestilence and plague into your house, into your bed_

_Into your streams, into your streets, into your drink, into your bread_

_Upon your cattle, upon your sheep, upon your oxen in your field_

_Into your dreams, into your sleep, until you break, until you yield!_

_I send the swarm, I send the horde_

_Thus saith the Lord!_

She had no doubts that Nation had taught the slaves that song, and so she responded with the lyrics from  _The Plagues._

Subspacing the letter, she smiled and thought,  _Let's see how you like that, Pharoah._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watched Prince of Egypt recently and saw some perfect themes! I couldn't resist using them here.
> 
> The songs mean more if you have heard them. The first is Deliver Us and the second is The Plagues. It will only take a few minutes and they are available on youtube. They are super emotional and moving, so please listen to them!
> 
> Please leave a review!


	35. The Bow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have posted another one-shot for this story (sorry, guys) that must be read for this chapter to make sense. It is called "A New Car" and explores the background with Grace and Soundwave.
> 
> See Prologue for disclaimer.

_**I have posted another one-shot for this story (sorry, guys) that must be read for this chapter to make sense. It is called "A New Car" and explores the background with Grace and Soundwave.** _

* * *

 

She was alone when she awoke. Her night had been spent with her mostly awake, and the few times she had managed to fall asleep had been haunted with the same dream from her trip to the city.

_It would start with her standing next to Megatron's pede as he discussed the city planning with Soundwave and her. She would listen every so often, but a cry from behind her made her wheel around._

" _Someone's got to stop this!" One of the slaves wiring a panel next to the wide open wall moved towards a slave master whipping an old man. A companion pulled her back, saying that there was nothing they could do._

_The supervisor kept lashing him with the whip, the man sinking lower and lower and begging for him to stop. He held up his hands, but nothing would stop the lash from coming down and shocking him every time it hit skin. All of his cries made her flinch, made her cry inside for the plight of her people._

" _Stop it," she whispered. "Stop!" she called out louder, now running towards them as anger took over, "Stop it! Leave that man alone!"_

_Megatron had stopped and turned around, gazing after her with his helm cocked to the side, "Eleaniris?"_

_The slave master ignored her, and she opened her arms and tried to tackle him football-style. She had failed to realize that they were close to the window edge, up about 100 feet. There was no glass installed yet and the wall was a huge hole where the barrier would be._

_When she made contact with him, he was destabilized and tottered on the edge, swaying violently before tumbling. Eleaniris barely managed to stop, skidding to a halt next the slave and spinning her arms wildly to catch her balance. She was given a perfect view as the robot fell to the street below, where a group of rebar-like posts stood vertically._

_Needless to say, he was impaled straight through his chest and Energon burst forth like water from a cracked dam._  That was when she would wake up, every single time, with a new handle on her destiny and purpose.

Fighting the enslavement of her people, Moses-style.

_Did he really show me that yesterday? All of my people as slaves, their freedom stripped away and being tortured for fun? And all those Decepticons,_  her heart sank and she almost sobbed,  _why do I keep fighting him? What is the real purpose? Megatron has already pinned the Earth beneath his huge hand. What can_ _ **I**_ _, the Slave Queen, do?_

Then her mind showed her the girl, Kathy, who had placed a crown of flowers over the cold, metal crown of Megatron's sick farce.  _I fight for them. I fight because I believe that my cause is just, because I believed it enough to swear on it._

_I am President for a year and a half more. No matter what he says, I will still be President until there is no election to replace me._

_He can't take that away._

Groaning and sitting up, Eleaniris noticed that the sun was already up in the clear morning sky. Climbing to her pedes and going down the ladder, she made her way out into the main space. The door across the room was open, surprisingly, and she saw Megatron seated at his desk reading a datapad.

He didn't even look up at her, greeting in his customary thunderous voice, "Did you recharge well, my little Empress?"

She bit her cheek and kept walking,  _No_. "Yes," she decided to lay it on thick, "my enormous Emperor."  _Wow that was sappy._

His optics now rose to her, raking her body shamelessly. Her conqueror grinned, his fangs malicious, "Good. You can stay out there, I will join you shortly." She stopped walking and nodded, seeing Wheelie beneath the sectional.

She beamed and gestured for the drone to come to her. "How are you, Wheelie?"

He smiled up at her and came out, "Very good, my Que-" he saw her look and corrected quickly "Eleaniris."

She nodded, looking around for the gryphon that always seemed to be near the robot. "Do you know where Borealis is?" Wheelie looked away, fidgeting nervously.

"She has been gone for a few days. I just woke up and she was missing. I d-don't know where she went."

Eleaniris raised an optic ridge, "Huh. I am sure she will come around eventually."

He didn't reply and Megatron exited his office to pluck her up. "You have plenty of gifts to sort out, my flower. Shall we?" He gestured to the pile on the coffee table and she nodded, opting to ignore his pet name.

* * *

"I think that can get put away," she mused, contemplating the box of assorted chocolates, "and I don't mean that you can eat it."

Megatron chuckled and set it into the storage pile, next to the various containers of jewels. They had been categorizing them for the past hour or so, and there were still a few gifts left.

A small collection of boxes with a tiny datapad, which she believed were given by Shockwave, was among them. They were labelled with different Cybertronian runes, and she asked "What are these?"

He reached over her and plucked them up, holding them close to his faceplates. "Seeds, and there is a note on this datapad." He handed it to her, and she saw English characters across the screen.

"Shockwave says that there is another part of the gift that he is working on. Interesting." She looked up at him and shrugged, "What kind of plants do those grow?"

Megatron's optics shifted from her to the boxes in his servo, "Cybertronian plants and some genetically-altered Earth ones."

"Oh. What kind of genetic engineering?" Megatron looked closer at the containers.

"They say that the mutations made them larger."

"I will have to plant those later." He set them down in the 'storage' pile. "Do you have a garden of some sort?"

The Decepticon chuckled, "There are plans for one, precious. I can discuss those with you later."

Fifteen minutes later and only one gift was left. A plain, metallic box sat there, and she did not recognize it from the coronation.  _Nation, maybe? Is that too much to hope for?_

Popping the lid, Eleaniris held back a gasp. A slim, black bow sat on the inside, simple yet elegant. A quiver of metallic arrows laid next to it, a black chest strap over it.

She picked it up carefully, admiring the weightlessness of it. Her thumb felt a button and curiously she pressed it. It folded up into a baton-like rod. Peeking into the box she saw that it also included a sheath for the bow.

The Emperor watched her as she attached it into place on the inside of her left arm and slid the bow in. He too did not remember it, but as long as she was happy with it he was too.

Upon inspection she realized that some of the tips of the arrows were red, and she knew immediately what that meant.  _Explosive bolts. This has to be Nation;_ he  _wouldn't let me have this._

After asking him to unclip her cape, she pulled the quiver over her helm and allowed it to settle across her back. "This is pretty nice." She broke the silence, rolling her shoulders and testing the fit.

He nodded, observing. "Soundwave has informed me that he has a few datapads for you."

She raised an optic ridge and he elaborated, "Your history materials?"

Eleaniris made an "O" shape with her mouth, stepping into his waiting servo and sitting down.

He walked downstairs, Eleaniris reflecting on who could have possibly given her the weapon.

Megatron had a habit of not knocking on doors and just barrelling in. Usually that was how he found subordinates doing things they otherwise wouldn't.

This time was no different.

"Soundwave, you ha-" Megatron cut himself off at the sight that greeted them.

Grace's servo was on Soundwave's cheek as he crouched on the floor at her level, kissing him passionately. The second-in-command was returning the affection, pushing back into her and caressing her posterior with numerous tentacles.

Both of their jaws dropped as the smaller femme made out with the much larger mech, the latter rumbling deeply and pushing her to the floor.

"Grace!" Eleaniris screamed as Megatron barked "Soundwave!"

They jumped apart, Grace refusing to meet a hurt Eleaniris' faceplates and Soundwave a jealous Megatron's.

* * *

"How could you Grace? After all they have done to us?" Eleaniris was more sad than angry at this point but Grace still did not look her in the optic.

They were alone on the sectional, Megatron speaking with Soundwave by the table. Grace proceeded to tell her the whole story of her history with Soundwave, finishing "Please understand, madame. I thought the world was over for good, and I was just trying to find my own destiny."

Eleaniris shook her head slowly, opening her mouth to reply but Grace cut her off "I don't have a leadership role like you do, Eleaniris. I know that I don't carry the same responsibility and weight that you do. I know that you feel responsible for what happened, but I don't see anything that we can do."

"They are too many, Eleaniris. Too strong. Look at him," the stylist pointed at Megatron, "What makes you think we can win against  _that?_ " Now it was Grace's turn to shake her head, hopelessness written all over her expression, "They defeated us in  _three days_!  **Three** days."

"I have to try. I refuse to accept what he has done." Eleaniris set a servo on Grace's shoulder and fixed her with a somber look. "For the last two weeks he took me out to the slave camps, Grace. I can still remember the smell, I can still hear their cries, I can still see their blood on the ground and on the whips." Remembering the children, she added with earnest, "They enslaved kids Grace!  _Children!_ I saw some as young as  _seven_!"

Grace gasped, her pink optics widening, "You can't be serious."

"I wish I wasn't." Glancing at the table, she fished out the letter from her subspace. "Take this and get it out of here to Nation. I think there might be hope, however faint, to fix this."

"I have a feeling that Soundwave affords you more freedom than Megatron does me." Grace agreed, taking it and subspacing it after Eleaniris showed her how to do so.

"Where is Susan? Does she know about this?" Eleaniris realized that the woman must be somewhere if Grace was healthy enough to move around.

"She is recharging in one of the cabinets. And I don't think she has noticed yet, somehow." Grace bit her lip with worry. Her coworker could be as wrathful as a bull in the arena.

"Stop this, Grace, please. Please, just hold on." Grace nodded, knowing that she would have to at least try.

Soundwave and Megatron must have finished their discussion, as the former gestured for Laserbeak and Ravage to get them. The vulture, to Eleaniris' mild surprise, was friendly with Grace. He flew around her and nuzzled her cheek with his beak, inciting a little giggle from the stylist.

Ravage fetched Eleaniris and Laserbeak toted Grace to the table. Megatron scooped her up from the panther's back, kissing her helm lightly and setting her down again.

Soundwave gave Megatron an almost indecipherable nod and instantly she knew the topic of their prior discussion.  _Oh hell no._

"I have the datapads you requested, Eleaniris." She smiled and thanked him, noticing out of the corner of her eye Megatron's jealous look.  _Ha._

The stack of datapads was given to the Emperor, who subspaced them for later. They took their leave and Eleaniris requested hesitantly, "Please, can I see those women?"

He looked confused for a second and stopped in the middle of his trek up the elegant staircase, "The femmes? What for?"

"I just want to see them, make sure they are doing okay." Eleaniris said meekly and quietly.

"Very well." Megatron agreed reluctantly, turning around and going back down the stairs.

"What are you going to do with them?" she asked hesitantly. She hated having to sound submissive, hated how powerless she was feeling in his palm.

"The library needs a few more caretakers. I wish to transfer those that are working there currently." She nodded, still not happy but relieved that they were not going to be pawned off to one of his officers as a breeding slave.

Like she was.

Megatron could say all he wanted, but she knew that all he wanted to do was break her. Break her and then use her to make more of his world-destroying and slave-making race. Revel in the fact that he had the human's greatest leader chained to his berth, acting like a whore.

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen._

* * *

The three women were kept in a room on the lowest level, fashioned as an auxiliary quarters with a single berth and small Energon storage unit. The berth was large enough for them to sleep on together and still have space.

When Megatron set her down and stepped back, they all rose from their seats on the berth to greet her. They seemed to each keep one optic on her and the other on Megatron, who she couldn't blame them for being wary of.

"W-why are you here?" the middle one asked, coming closer and narrowing her light green optics suspiciously. She was built lightly, thinner than Eleaniris was and a little shorter.  _She must have been really pretty as a human._

"I just came to see that you were okay." she said lowly, tensing. She realized that this might have been a bad idea; she had no idea as to how they might react. "What are your names?"

"What do you care,  _Empress?_ " she replied with a sneer. "We're all just  _slaves_  to  _your majesty_."

Glancing over her shoulder and seeing that Megatron was speaking over his comm., she hissed back "You think that I wanted to be turned into, into  _this?"_  Eleaniris gestured up and down her body, "Well I didn't, okay? He just stuck me in some machine and ripped away my humanity like  _that_." She tried to snap her fingers for effect, but that only worked with skin apparently.

She seemed taken aback, leaning back a little. "I-"

"I didn't  _ask_ for any of this! I  _hate_ what he has done to me and what he has done to you, too." She sighed, looking down, "I just can't do anything about it, that's all. He says it's irreversible."

"It's Sophia." Eleaniris jerked her helm up. "My name is Sophia, this is Talia," she indicated a blue-opticed femme to Eleaniris' right, "and this is Kimora."

Kimora, a more athletically-built woman with strong and steady looking legs and arms, dipped her helm. "I voted for you, madame President."

Eleaniris chuckled and short, stocky Talia greeted, "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sherman." She shifted nervously and said "I hope you don't mind if I ask, but it's been bothering me and, well…"

"What exactly is  _in_ Area 51?"

Eleaniris laughed loudly, genuinely, for the first time in a long time. It startled Megatron out of his call with an officer and he smiled at the beautiful sound. After a few seconds he resumed his comm. and resolved that if she was that happy when she visited them, he would let her have their company as much as he could.

"You really ask  _that_? Out of everything you could say to the President you choose  _that_?" Sophia scoffed lightly and Talia shrugged.

"It's fine, I don't mind." Eleaniris grinned at the complete 180 in attitude, "You really want to know?"

All three femmes leaned closer as Eleaniris whispered with a smirk "It's where we keep the recipe for Coca-Cola."

"You're pulling our legs." Kimora said doubtfully.

"No, I'm serious."

"I still don't believe you." Sophia cocked her helm to the side and narrowed her green optics again.

"The alien thing was made up."  _It was actually beneath the Hoover Dam. Who knew?_

"I get it. So it was like a cover?" Talia nodded approvingly. "Makes sense to me."

Once they had all sombered again from the chuckle, Eleaniris said quietly, "I'm sorry what he did to you. It wasn't fair, nor right."

"What do you expect from an evil alien dictator? It wasn't fair for  _you_ , either." Kimora peered at her with yellow optics, "I'd say that you received the brunt of this Invasion, madame. You might be worse off than the rest of us, with him making you his  _mate_."

"Besides,  _we_  can't do anything about it anyway." Eleaniris had to concede to Kimora's point.

"We can rebel, though. Listen carefully, each of you," Eleaniris whispered the plans for ignoring spoken Cybertronian but reporting what they had overheard to Nation. Unsurprisingly, they had each heard of the secretive organization but none knew who was  _actually_  in it.  _That must be why they are so secure._

Megatron had finished his comm., smiling at the news it had brought him and watching the femmes converse while he thought over what his plans would mean.

* * *

Grace was more hesitant to kiss Soundwave after what Eleaniris had told her. She still loved him, knowing that he was just a soldier that had to take orders, but enslaving children was something she couldn't look past.

Nor was that haunted look in her President's grey optics.  _She must have seen so many horrors out there. So many awful things that she wants to forget._

Soundwave had shown her the library while he had taken out datapads, and Grace now used the excuse of a visit to pass on the message. He let her go with a smile, telling her he would be in the command room on the base floor if she needed him. She almost felt bad about the deception, but she told herself that this was worth fighting for.

She slipped the paper into a passing slave's cart with a Cybertronian equivalent of a wink. The woman winked back so quickly it might have been a blink, but Grace had seen it for what it really was.

And so the rebellion kept on, even in the face of a demoralized human race and a billion Decepticons. A new, faint hope was on the horizon, one that they knew might be their last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Eleaniris. Hopefully you guys got a little more of Grace and Soundwave here! Their relationship is so cute.
> 
> [Insert standard begging for review here.]


	36. The Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Language.

"Hmm." Mr. G sounded annoyed that he had been proven wrong. Anyone would be, but for arrogant Mr. G being found incorrect stung twice as much. "So she rebelled against him, in essence?"

"That is essentially what Sergeant Epps reported, yes." Burns affirmed, eying the named Sergeant leaning against the wall. Robert Epps looked nervous, his eyes flickering around the room and never resting in one place for too long.

"Has she sent out a message?" Mr G. asked, none-too-subtly redirecting the conversation away from his defeat.

"Yes, and she says that there are more of their race that might be able to help us." Burns glanced back at his notes, "They are called Autobots, a group that she thinks are the enemies of these Decepticons. Their leader is Optimus Prime."

"Even if these Autobots do exist, how could they be contacted? They must be farther away in the depths of space." Ms. T sounded hopeful and defeated at the same time.

"My people have seen a room in the palace that can be used for such a purpose, but we must see if we can hack the signal first before a break-in is attempted. Regardless, there is another piece of business that must be discussed."

"We have even received word from her that she has already requested for her people to be 'let go.'" Burns paused for effect, "And that the quote 'Pharaoh' says no."

There were several murmurs, but Ms. T voiced her opinion first. "Did she add anything else?"

Burns read the song fragment that she had written, unable to stop a smirk from slowly growing on his face.  _Damn she's good._

"It seems as though we must come up with a plague." he added before any of the others could comment.

"We are limited in our abilities and in our chances. How will this even work?" Mr. G was always one to criticize very quickly, and it was getting on Epps' last nerve.

A heated argument outbroke, the voices slowly vising in volume and pitch until Epps could no longer tolerate it. He was way out of line, he knew, but what he had to say could not be bitten back.

"Respectfully, ladies and gentlemen," Epps shouted, albeit knowing that Lennox would smack him into next week for insubordination, "you are all overlooking a simple fact."

All of the leaders fell silent and, even though none of their faces were visible, Epps could feel eyes on him. "What would that be, soldier?" Mr G. interrogated and Burns watched him intently.

"They are robots. Computers, in a sense." Epps continued, "What about a virus?"

* * *

"Are you going to leave them here, or are you going to move them now?" Eleaniris asked as she stepped into his servo.

Megatron seemed to consider for a moment before replying, "They can be shown to the library." He chuckled and added with a leering smirk, "I believe that I owe you a tour too, my dear."

Out of the corner of her vision Eleaniris saw the femmes flinch and give her a communal look of sympathy.  _Sorry,_ they seemed to say.

"Are you going to give them a lift too?" Eleaniris was pushed against his chestplates, almost smothered against his broad, unyielding metal.

"They can walk." he growled, turning to the door to leave the femmes to their own devices. He only stooped in this way for his Queen, and no one else.

"Then so can I." she replied testily, pushing ineffectively against his fingers.

His deep chuckle vibrated her small body, "But I  _like_  carrying you, little flower." She huffed and settled back against his chest in defeat. Megatron, triumphant and assured in his victory, kept walking through the hallway with the femmes running to keep up with his long strides.

They were still on the ground floor when he came to a large pair of doors. Not as huge as the ones for their quarters, but still a good size.  _Wait, did I just say ours?_

"I think you will like this, Eleaniris." His tone was smug, and she was about to bite back when the doors parted and she gasped.

The centre of cavernous space was lit by what looked to be a huge, glowing, orange energy orb. Its surface swirled and twisted, moving in a fashion similar to lava. There were a few tables here and there with clear monitors, but most of the space was filled with towering shelves, reaching the vaulted ceiling 200 feet up. The shelf-like structures did not hold regular datapads, but rather squares that radiated a light blue from their screens. Cybertronian symbols labelled the ones that she could see in an index-like fashion, and she saw several small Decepticons scurrying about taking out and replacing different square-shaped datapads. They appeared to fly with a bike-like vehicle, which would hover in place while they exchanged the slim pads.

A large bay of windows stood to one side, showcasing what must have been the fledgling construction of the gardens. It was a hill, slowly sloping downwards underneath a blue sky.

"How may we serve you, Lord Megatron?"

One of them had landed on the floor and bowed deeply, ignoring her and the panting femmes standing behind Megatron. He was probably taller than she was, about the size of a slave master and with the same black, simple metal build. The likeness made her shiver.

" _The library needs a few more caretakers. I wish to transfer those that are working there currently."_ Wait, did he need more slavekeepers? She wanted to throw up, punch him, or both.

Even if the latter would do nothing but amuse him.

"As you were. I am not in need of assistance," He set Eleaniris down, much to her surprise, "But you are to help my Queen with whatever she desires." She remembered with a start,  _You will be honored as an extension of myself._

He unsubspaced the datapads Soundwave had made and gave them to her, "Also, these femmes are to be trained to staff the library."

The subordinate nodded and saluted stiffly. "As you desire, Lord Megatron."

He ignored him and spoke to Eleaniris, "Stay here until I come to fetch you, alright? I must go to the command room for an hour or two to oversee a few things." Megatron shifted his gaze to the fidgeting librarian and his baritone became more unforgiving, "You have several Earth novels, yes?"  _You better_ was implied in his dangerous undertone.

"Y-yes, my lord. T-there is a selection." Megatron rumbled, satisfied, and turned to leave, but not before bending to kiss the helm of his Queen.

"Be good, my little Empress." She nodded dumbly, disgusted with his affection even as she felt the yank in her chassis.  _What_ _ **is**_ _that?_

They didn't move until the doors had closed with a click. They first to speak was Talia, "Wow. He's smitten with you." She was promptly elbowed by Sophia, who gave the shorter femme a look and scolded quietly.

Talia mused thoughtfully after Sophia had stopped, "You know, he's honestly not that bad looking."

Eleaniris bit her cheek, lowering her gaze to her pedes. "You're right, he's not." It didn't matter how much she despised him; a handsome man was a handsome man. Evil had no place in that equation.

Evil did have a place in the theorem of attraction.

They stared at her, Sophia showing the most surprise, and Kimora said hesitantly "It's okay if you like him, madame. You can't really help it, can you?"

Eleaniris snapped out of it, clenching her jaw, "That  _thing_ is not the apple of my eye, and he will  _never_  be so long as I am your President."

They had not seen the librarian step aside to take a comm from Megatron, accepting new orders and taking off to fulfill them.

When he returned to the femmes, he beckoned for Eleaniris to follow him. She was led to one of the tables and a stack of the slim squares was placed in front of her. "Enjoy, my Queen."

He was gone, taking Sophia, Talia, and Kimora with him. She sighed, setting down her own, personal stack and deciding to flip through the selection she had been given.  _Floppy disks? Wow._

She studied one of the glowing squares and then checked the underside of one of the slim, glass monitors. Sure enough, there was a slot on the bottom for the card to be inserted.

 _Great Expectations_ , in a pdf format, flickered onto the screen.  _No thanks._ That book had been required reading in highschool, and she had hated it.

She went through half the stack, finding books from  _To Kill a Mockingbird_ to  _1984_  to  _Fahrenheit 451_ to  _The War of the Worlds._ The last she thought quite ironic given her situation, so much that she almost gave a dark chuckle. She was not expecting the quantity of dystopian novels provided to her, thinking that he either did not know their content or he did and provided them to her with sick humor.

She would have liked to think it was the latter, but her head told her it was the former for some unknown reason.

She had just ejected  _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ from the monitor, biting her lip and trying to forget, when she saw she was already down to the bottom. Only one disk was left, and Eleaniris clicked it in with curiosity.

It was not a pdf book. She saw footage of a gladiatorial arena, its shape and structure eerily reminding her of the Roman Colosseum. There was an enormous crowd present, comprising a writhing, silvery mass, but the center was presently empty.

One huge robot that she did not recognize entered, a long, double-edged axe slung over one shoulder. Someone announced his name in Cybertronian and the crowd cheered and applauded.

She had thought that sound was deafening, but what came next made that pale in comparison.

The masses rose and cheered, giving a standing ovation to the oddly familiar mech that sauntered to the middle, waving a servo and bowing.  _What an exhibitionist._ He acted like he owned the place, like he had already won.

"Megatronus! Megatronus!" was the chant that reached her audios.  _Odd. Was this placed in the stack on purpose, or was it an accident?_  She wanted to turn it off, but her optics remained glued to the screen.

The fight was short, to say the least. "Megatronus" dwarfed his opponent, making quick work of him with surprisingly agile turns and swift stabs from his sword. He lifted what must have been a several ton frame with a single servo, as one might lift a paperback. She gulped at the display of raw power, wondering for the millionth time how a being with such awesome strength could handle her without crushing her.

He looked up into a private box in the stands, as if waiting for an order. One that she did not see was given, and effortlessly he tossed the other into the air above him. He fired a shot from the canon on his arm through the body and he was dead before he hit the ground.

"Megatronus" turned in circles and bowed to a roaring crowd, playing them up and strutting like the rockstar he knew he was. To finish it off, he scooped up the axe from the ground and, grasping the handle with two hands, cleanly snapped it in half like a cheap pencil.

Her jaw fell to the floor. To say that she was impressed was the understatement of the century. Hastily she came to, pushing the card to eject it and stuffing it back in the stack.

Eleaniris did not know what to think of what she had seen. Sure, she was completely awestruck at his inconceivable power and effortless murder, but it depressed her to an extent too.  _How could I ever defeat him? I must weigh nothing to him, if he can move others his own size that easily. I am no obstacle in his path of conquest, I am simply along for the ride. His little Slave Queen, his miniscule broodmare..._

_His insignificant_ _**bitch** _ _._

The librarian tapped her on her shoulder, pulling her back to the present. "Are there any you would like to be placed on datapads, my lady?"

Eleaniris dug  _Animal Farm_ out of the stack and gave it to him wordlessly. She had already read the story several times, but it was always an interesting intellectual study. She needed something else to think about for once.

* * *

When he came to get her, afternoon light was streaming through the windows and the sun was low in the sky. She said her goodbyes to the femmes and wished them luck with their new professions, trying to mask her depression.

"Did you find anything interesting?" he asked as he exited the library and turned to walk up to his quarters.  _Oh, that was definitely in the stack on purpose._

"Yes. One of the drones gave me a book to read." Disappointment flickered onto his face for a brief instant before going away, replaced with annoyance and then impassiveness.  _Yes, certainly it was purposeful._

_Okay, fine. I'll play along._

"Somehow this clip got into my stack of squares though." She watched him out of the corner of her optic, tilting her helm slightly to catch his expression.

"A clip of what?" He was trying to hide his eagerness, and she would have thought it adorable.

If he wasn't trying to make her into a willing prostitute.

"Some gladiator or another." She did her best to sound disinterested, "His name was Megatronus, I think."

He made a sound of interest, "Was he any good?"  _Stop digging for compliments you bastard. I know it was you. I'm not stupid._

"He was alright." She smirked inwardly as an irked look crossed his faceplates.

"Just alright?" he prodded, looking downwards and raising an optic ridge.

"Yes. Mediocre at best."  _Your challenge is accepted, my dear._ He made a mental note to find a couple sparring partners for later. Soundwave had suggested that he appeal to her most instinctual desires for the qualities of a mate; that had included displaying an ability to "protect the nest" and, more directly, an ability to protect the female herself.

He wasn't sure how he hadn't achieved that with that particular clip, but he was sure he might have a better chance with an in-person presentation. However, he had already given her plenty of chances to be  _dazzled_  with his strength.  _Unless she is lying and trying to play hard to get…cute._

"I think you're hiding the truth from me, beautiful." She tensed, telling him all he needed to know. "You were surprised with this Megatronus, weren't you?" He let the amusement creep into his voice, smirking down at her.

She didn't answer him, averting her gaze and feeling heat in her cheeks. He chuckled, purring and rubbing her against the side of his face, "You're adorable, my little flower."

She bristled, pushing against him and trying to put distance between herself and his cheek, "Stop! Please!"

"Why should I?" Megatron purred, coming to the doors of his apartments.

"Stop playing with me. I know you had that datapad put there to try to impress me, so stop!"

They entered the doors and he went to the table, setting her down. She was about to whirl around and screech at him again when something screeched at  _her_.

She was thrown to the table on her front, a heavy something pinning her down. A cool, female, robotic voice entered her mind,  _Greetings, mistress._

The weight disappeared and she rose and turned. Borealis, now the size of a horse, sat on her haunches and peered at her with her purple optics, curling her tail over her front talons.

Her wings were folded yet long, the feather-like metal still reflecting different colors. "Wow," she breathed, standing to approach her. The gryphon had two ear-like crests curving backwards and upwards, giving her an air of regality and elegance, and a small amount of metal filaments constituted a short mane around her neck. The voice spoke again, smooth and silky in her head,  _Are my updates satisfactory?_

"How are you speaking to me?" Eleaniris whispered, stroking Borealis' beak. ' _Shortly after your cyberformation, Soundwave took data from your processor to make a connection with mine.'_ Eleaniris narrowed her optics at the invasion of privacy and Borealis finished, ' _This was done with your mate's consent.'_

"He is  _not_  my mate," she growled, hoping that Megatron hadn't heard, "It is not his right to determine such things."

He did, and it was disheartening to hear her speak the words that he already knew were true. He could fix that, he  _would_ fix that. Megatron was not one to give up in matters of conquest, and this one was no exception. What he wanted, he got.

Eleaniris would be no different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to see a general reference for Borealis? Check out the "Gryphon" article on the "Tactics Ogre Wiki." Not my art, but my description of Borealis was based off of this awesome depiction.
> 
> Famous last words: Please... review...


	37. The Virus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

"How much longer do you need to work?" Grace asked with annoyance and looked up at Soundwave, the latter leaning over a data pad on his desk. It was only one of many, an enormous stack taller than herself on the surface next to him. He had been working for what seemed to be the entire day, reading and typing nonstop.

"Until these are done, and then I must write the summary report for Megatron." Soundwave looked at her with sympathy, a tentacle sliding out to stroke her upper back lovingly, "Go get some recharge, little bird."

"It's not fair that you have to do all of his work on  _top_  of your own." Grace mumbled, turning away to hike over to the adjacent berth.

"His orders. I must do what I must do." His tentacle smacked her behind affectionately, eliciting a bashful gasp from Grace and making her hop, "Now go lie down."

"What if I don't want to?" Grace fake-pouted, taking the shy posture that drove Soundwave crazy. She clasped her servos in front of her, turning her upper body back and forth timidly and puffing out her bottom lip.

His red optics flickered to her, his mandibles splaying and clicking as more tendrils snaked out, "Come here, little one." She didn't have to move, as his tentacles snaked around her waist to reel her in to him.

She mock fought him, pushing half-heartedly at the cords and whimpering, "Please, spare me!" She was sure to be careful of Susan hearing, making a mental note to request that she move to another room.

"No." They plopped her in his lap, right on his loins, but remained curled around her body protectively. "I will do as I please with you later." She giggled, knowing that Soundwave never forced her to do anything that she didn't want to. He was incredibly sweet and nothing but kind to her, just as his assistants were. Grace leaned back against his abdomen, looking at the Mercedes emblem on his chest.

She smiled and relaxed, slumping but then sobering. What Eleaniris had told her made her incredibly worried and also disgusted with what Soundwave and the rest of them had done. She felt more sadness and pity for Eleaniris, though, because of who she was stuck with. Sure Soundwave was a Decepticon, but being a soldier was different from being a leader. Grace found solace in the fact that Soundwave was a follower and only accepted orders but Megatron was the commander, the  _monster_ , that gave them in the first place.

Soundwave shot up, his tentacles tightening around her. He left the data pad on his desk, speaking through his comm. hurriedly in Cybertronian while he exited through the door.

" _Relay the information to me immediately. Megatron must know of this."_ He sounded vaguely perturbed and annoyed, emotions he rarely expressed. He must have forgotten that he was carrying her as he went upwards to his master's rooms, his tentacles gripping her carefully to his chassis.

One of the guards went into the apartment to check that it was alright, reemerging moments later and gesturing for Soundwave to enter. He was impatient, Grace could tell, his footsteps a little quicker and bouncing her more than they would normally. She curled her fingers around his chest plating, snuggling up closer to him in an effort to stabilize herself. Soundwave started, optics flicking from her to the room again and stroking her reassuringly with a single metal tendril.

" _My lord, there is a situation that requires your attention._ "

Megatron turned away from the window he had been gazing out of, Eleaniris in his servo. Grace could tell that the poor woman loathed the contact, seeing her shift around and clutch herself. She shivered under Megatron's own attempt to soothe her, a clawed thumb petting her back. Her white optics told Grace of her absolute discomfort and the stylist could only look away, glad that she herself had been spared such a fate.  _She never deserved any of this._

" _What is it, Soundwave?"_ The Emperor's red optics glowed at his temporary second, completely ignoring her while stroking Eleaniris with his other servo. The former leader was not enjoying the touch and appeared to fight it, pushing at digits her size with no effect whatsoever. Megatron was oblivious and continued the unwanted contact.

" _There has been an outbreak of a virus, my liege. I recommend that the palace be locked down until a cure is found."_

 _A virus? Nation must be at it again,_ Eleaniris thought, trying to ignore Megatron as best she could. The last few days had been strained with him and she had figured it was due to her "not my mate" comment. He had taken it hard, storming out of the room and making her feel a little bad. It was insensitive of her to say that in front of him. She and Borealis spoke until he returned, much calmer.

She trusted the gryphon, finding out that she had left to update in the wilderness so that her mistress would not stress over her. " _I hold you in high regard, my mistress, and I do not wish to cause pain for you. Just like your ma-Megatron."_

That had made her think about him a little more, wondering just  _why_  it was that he cared about her so much. The feeling was not mutual, but  _something_  must have been the hook. After all, he  _had_  called her "dear" on the day he had caught her.  _Why the complete 180 in attitude from the weeks prior to that? Why are you so careful with me, Megatron, when you seem so callous and cold with everyone else?_

" _Walk with me."_ Megatron ordered in Cybertronian, pulling her to the present, his steps quick out the door and leaving the much smaller mech to run after him. " _Lock down the palace and have a sample obtained. A remedy must be found, and you will be the one to do it. If you require assistance, employ Scalpel or Shockwave to assist."_

His split-second glance was so rapid that Eleaniris almost missed it but she heard him add, " _If my Queen is infected, know that the consequences for all who failed to safeguard her will be tremendous."_ Again, she was conflicted. His words implied a great amount of care, or at least possessiveness, for her. She was both repulsed and touched, something in her chest shuddering in a manner that made her frown.  _Not that again._

" _Understood, Megatron. She will be protected."_

A few moments later they were in the Decepticon Command headquarters. She had only been here a few times, and all of them had been unpleasant. Whether it be undesired yanking, scattered insults, symbolic leashes, or video footage of slaves, it all disturbed her to her core.

All within rose and saluted stiffly before Megatron dismissed them casually, stepping up to the large hologram in the front of the room. " _Go on, Soundwave."_

The officer nodded, setting Grace down on a desk and giving a dirty look at the Decepticon seated there. It was a threat, a dare to touch a femme he had claimed as his. The subordinate nodded furiously, holding up his servos in a submissive posture. Megatron still held her to his chest, though, and Eleaniris made herself comfortable for the considerable amount of time she might spend there.

The virus was confirmed to be one put out by a rebel group, originating in several camps and spreading seemingly by touch. None of the North American mines, factories, or camps were affected, however, and Eleaniris supposed that Nation did not want to endanger her.

The clips of the robots it disabled made her cheer, showing them convulsing and going still, into a comatose state that left their limbs limp for several minutes and ending in death. Soundwave informed that they had all offlined earlier that morning, but the situation was thought to be contained. He said that a sample was now being delivered to the palace, and that a cure was imminent. Eleaniris was almost hesitant to accept her hope, wanting to reject it in a protective mechanism.

She craned her neck to look at her captor, faking a fearful tone, "What is happening?" For good measure she was sure to widen her optics to make them doe-like.

"An illness, my dear. You'll be okay." She nodded, seeming to accept his answer and ignoring his strokes.

* * *

Eleaniris was glad that she didn't allow hope in.

When the sample arrived, it took Soundwave all of twenty minutes to find the antidote.

Twenty-one minutes after the delivery, it was being injected into one of her fuel lines. Megatron's triumphant and relieved look made her want to cry all over again as he took his own vaccination. It was just another point for him and his forces, a speedbump that was meant to be a wall.

Maybe it was not even a speedbump, but more a crack in the road. It reeked of easy victory, of a planet resigned to slavery for eternity. It was another backhand to her, another spit in the face, another kick to the gut, another lash to her already raw and broken back. It came as a reminder of his race's superiority, of his utter dominance over humanity.

Of his utter, complete dominance over  _her._ Her mind mocked sardonically,  _Slave Queen._

He returned later to their apartments, setting her on his chest as he laid in his berth. "I will always protect you, my dear. I will never allow you to be lost." His optics seemed so sincere, so fond of her, but her heart still bled. Only a few Decepticons had been taken out, and many more of them still held their whips and still drank the Energon stolen from her home. They would stop at nothing until the Earth was raped completely of all she could offer to her invaders, and even then Eleaniris was sure that they would still rape her for sheer, sick pleasure. Schadenfreude, she thought that pleasure at pain was called.

" _What a vicious little human," Megatron teased playfully, making her halt her ravenous wolfing of the cheeseburger in front of her. She hadn't had meat in what seemed to be forever, and the sight of a well-cooked, safe piece of beef made her turn into an animal._

_He had turned all of them into animals really, killing each other for their own survival and fighting over what the Decepticons didn't want and deemed suitable for humanity. It wasn't much, based on what she had seen._

_God how he disgusted her._

_Nevertheless she slowed and ate what little was left with dignity, sitting straighter in his palm and opening her stance so that she was no longer hunched over the food protectively._

_The Energon factory had been built nearby an old nuclear power plant, using the nuclear waste there to make the lifeblood of their invaders. As angry as she was to see the aliens sucking their resources dry and living off of the back of humanity, she was pleased to see that the slaves were given the appropriate clothing and protective wear for dealing with the waste product. They also appeared trained, like they had worked there prior to the day that changed the Earth forever. That part she didn't know what to think of, save for the fact that Megatron was extremely methodical and through._

She shifted on his chassis, unable to sleep, and reflected further.

The logistics were amazing for a three-day takeover. The Decepticons were an astounding, stunning, spectacular war machine. She could admit that they were astonishingly organized, in the same way the Nazi Party was not so long ago in Germany.

That parallel between the two forces made her shudder, and without her permission her mind continued,  _No wonder the slave camps felt like Auschwitz._

She stopped that line of thought right there, not wanting to walk down a path of more painful reflection. She was sick of pain, sick of drowning in it every time she woke up and every time she went to bed. Sick of being powerless.

" _Hey! Look! It's President Squishy!" She tried to ignore them, but the two officers kept poking fun at her, smashing her face in her failure. "Or should I say_ _ **Pet**_   _Squishy?" She almost whimpered, fighting to keep the tears away and looking desperately for the only Decepticon that would protect her._

_Megatron._

_He had gone to see about something in the command room of the slave camp, and left his "Queen" to wonder on her own. Evidently he had too much faith in his forces._

_The two crouched to her level, the red Honda grabbing her and the blue Ford smirking malevolently, "You're a different little insect, aren't you?" His claw traced her belly and scratched the bare metal there, just deeply enough to leave a scratch. "Tell me how it feels,_ _**human** _ _, to be owned by one of us gods?"_

_She turned her face away, squeezing her optics shut to contain the tears. "Scared, human?" the Honda snickered, "Because you should_ _ **tremble**_   _in our presence." Another claw joined the first, this time over her heaving chest. It didn't seem to matter to them that she was a Cybertronain, for she supposed that a human slave was a human slave._

" _What an obedient little slave. Our leader must have such fun with you," the Ford insulted, "Is it comfortable between your invader's pedes, little leader? How does it feel to be conquered and then taken as a toy, an amusement for your masters?"_

" _He could throw you away just like the trash you are any time that he wants to, puny insect. The moment he breaks you, he will crush you like the bug you are and there is nothing you can do to stop him." The laugh reverberated in her chest, tearing her soul to pieces._

" _I must also tell you, the resources of this planet are so delicious. It is wonderful to have your race fill my tanks for me." The alien sneered, hot breath hitting her in the face like a backhand. "I don't have to do any work, for this planet is so_ _ **fertile**_   _and_ _ **rich**_   _that our army of a billion can feed upon its offerings."_

_She couldn't take it any more and prayed that he was nearby as she screamed desperately, "MEGATRON!"_

_The two laughed raucously at her torment, one of them adding "He can't hear you, little pet."_

" _Oh, he can." Her optics shot open, locking with the familiar blood-red orbs._

_He knelt and gestured for her to come to him. She did, hating the speed with which she ran to both her defender and her opposer. His servo curled around her protectively, gripping her to his chassis and letting her cry. He taught her to play back clips from her memory, and she did so through her hiccups and sobs._

_Megatron's whole demeanor changed through the harassment, an animalistic snarl sounding in her audios when they called her "trash." Nevertheless, he let the clip finish before he growled dangerously, "So she is trash to you, hmmm?"_

_She dared to raise her helm from his broad, strong chest. The two were cowering in submission, their optics not meeting their commander's. "What type of ignoramus imbeciles must you be, then? If your Queen is an_ _ **insect**_ _," he was spitting with his fury, optics bright with umbrage, "what are two_ _ **ignoble**_ _,_ _ **worthless**_ _,_ _ **slagging**_   _drones?"_

_He raised her to his cheek and to her horror her servos pulled her closer, begging for comfort and reassurance. "I'm going to put you down, Eleaniris." She nodded, sniffing, and stepped away as he advanced on the subordinates._

_The blue Ford was the first to go, his body pulled apart through the middle. She was numb as she watched metal split and wires snap, little bolts and parts scattering the ground. A torrent of Energon flooded the floor as the mech gave a last, gurgling scream._

_She felt immensely barbaric at the undeniable gratification in her belly as Megatron ripped them apart, but knew that she was justified. Their insults were the worst she had ever received, spoken or unspoken. She could not rationalize her willingness to let her conqueror, the one who had put her in this situation in the first place with his rout of her planet, of her home._

_He dropped the two irrecoverable, broken bodies to the metal floor, stepping towards her and scooping her up. "It's alright now, precious. You're safe."_

_The saddest part of this tragedy was that she did not even attempt to deny him the truth of his words. He cooed, rocking her and nuzzling her with his huge cheek, "You're safe."_

* * *

"I don't get it." Simmons shook his head, genuinely perplexed, "It worked in the movies."

"We can hardly apply  _Independence Day_ here, Simmons. It was all made up." Lennox said flatly in his seat across from the Sector Seven agent. He had barely touched his food, the small plate of brown mash growing cold.

"They are more advanced than us, that much is for sure." Wilson's index finger rested on his jaw, his thumb on the other side and middle of his hand propping up his chin. He was staring at his paste as well, only a couple of bites missing. "I think we need some more ideas."

"What about this Optimum Price?" Simmons asked hopefully.

" _Optimus Prime_ , Simmons." Lennox looked officially done and his eye roll implied  _Get with the program._

"The maps provided to us are detailed and we have several who have seen the machines operated and will help us." Burns said carefully, watching their faces of elation, "But it looks like we will need a distraction."

"Do we need to write another letter? Or is it a matter of opportunity?" Wilson perked up, eyes shining a little more with hope.

"I believe we must write a note to inform her that we need an opening." Burns said hesitantly, "But there is not much we can do except think of another plague for the time being."

They sat quietly, none of them uttering a word and staring at their plates. The cafeteria moved around them, but their table seemed to be frozen in time. After an unknown period, Simmons broke the silence and said to the other three men, "They have fuel plants, don't they? Could we sneak something into that? A toxin of some sort, like bleach?"

Burns nodded at premise of the idea but declined politely, "That could hurt Eleanor, though."

Lennox suggested, "What about we get the serial number of that shipment, if there is one, and give it to her?"

"But what if they track the number down to a factory? They will probably find who added it and execute them." Wilson contributed, his eyes focused on the blank wall behind Simmons and Burns.

"It seems that this must be discussed. We cannot do this without those adding the bleach knowing of the probability." Burns stood, taking his plate with him, "In the meantime, I will tell Eleanor of what we need."

* * *

"We need a distraction." Starscream growled with displeasure at Thundercracker's news, never one for patience. His gaze followed him as he paced.

"Then find one. I need to get into that palace." Starscream continued to walk after his trine-mate had left, pondering and planning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that the next chapter will be a little more cheery, guys. This was really dark and I will write the next to be a tad lighter.
> 
> Thank you all for your support through this long story, whether you have left a review or favorited or followed, it means so much to me. Please leave a review if you have time!


	38. The Clause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.
> 
> I don't own The Emperor's New Groove or Prince of Egypt. Warning for a (squeamish? Mature? IDK) memory at the end.

Eleaniris was roused from her shallow recharge when the metal beneath her shifted. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to yank her out of her slave-less world. She groaned and rested a servo on her face, not wanting to get up and face the world today.

"Good morning, precious. Did you recharge well?" The Decepticon Emperor seemed to be in a good mood, and Eleaniris was sickened by this. It didn't take much for her to hate him nowadays.

She had looked at the datapads he had gifted her, finding that one was devoted to the specifics of her new body and that the rest were history materials as he had promised. Being the history buff she was, she dug into them straight away. They seemed pretty genuine at first, even exciting, and the Empress was pleased to see this. Her beliefs held up until she came across a particular set of battles. Interestingly enough, if one figured out the timelines - since the date was not written explicitly - and put the puzzle pieces together…

Megatron was, essentially, in two places at once.

She had looked at it from so many different angles, hoping that she was mistaken and that he would not mislead her in such a low manner, but no excuses could be found. Yes, he was trying to indoctrinate her. After she deduced this she no longer took the lessons seriously, looking for "plot holes" instead of paying attention to the real history. However, that error was the only one she had found yet; most likely an attempt to cover up the Autobots and that Optimus Prime.

"Yes." She lied for the millionth time, "And you?" She couldn't care less, truly, but perhaps the one way to appease him was to lay it on thick.

He did something resembling a yawn, baring his flesh-shredding denta and almost-roaring while sucking in a long vent. His glossa stretched out and the tip curled slightly, similar to how a lion's would, the metal shiny and slick with the slime that she was far too familiar with. She leaned back slightly, feeling too close to his mouth for comfort. Once his jaws had clicked shut, he answered her with lazily spoken words, "Wondrously, with my Queen present." His optics glowed with the lust that sickened her.

She suddenly remembered an aspect of the document she had sworn to protect. It was so obvious that made her want to slap herself in the forehead - or  _forehelm_ , whatever - for not recalling it sooner. "Actually, I can't be your Queen." She tried to be meek and quiet and unassuming, pandering to his dominant side.

Megatron wasn't expecting this but did not let it ruin his mood, raising an optic ridge at her and chuckling at her stubbornness, "And why not?"

Eleaniris sat up straighter on his chest yet still nervously eyed his mouth, "Because Article 1, Section 9, Clause 8 of the United States Constitution says I can't."

"It says that any person in the United States Government cannot accept a title of nobility from a foreign state without the consent of Congress."

The Emperor chuckled,  _Adorable little thing._  He wasn't really listening to her words, instead watching how her hips and chest would shift naturally as she spoke animatedly.  _Beautiful, and so fragile._ Her anger drew his attention, however, and pulled him from his warm, rather X-rated fantasies.

"Since 'Queen' and 'Empress' fall under the category of  _title of nobility_ ," she was snapping now, "and since you dumped most of my Congress into a pit of  _sulfuric acid_ ," her words were acidic themselves, strong and biting into his armor, "There is no one to approve of the title, and I  _cannot_  be your Queen."

"You're  _adorable_ , my dear." He grinned at her, obviously not getting it, "I am glad that I kept you around." He leaned forward slightly and licked at the side of her face affectionately, making her fume more.

"And I am Megatron, precious. I pay no heed to  _rules_." He cupped her back with his servo, suddenly sitting up so that she was lying in his palm. He nuzzled her and purred, his large red optics dimming when they focused on her.

Eleaniris growled in frustration and started to say something, but Megatron interrupted her to tease, "Do that again. It was just so  _cute_." He didn't appear to realize that he was mocking her, continuing with his touches.

Her optics brightened with rage and he laughed, actually  _laughed_ , at her defiance. "Your government is gone, my dear. Only  _mine_  remains, and therefore only  _my_  rules exist."

"I thought you just said that you 'pay no heed to rules'?" She asked incredulously as her chest throbbed at his almost loving caress.  _Stop it!_ She was hurt but knew that his words were real, were the truth.

"And you're missing my point. I'm not supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be in my oval office or at the United Nations or in some meeting or other." She looked down and away, not meeting his gaze, "I want my old life back." Eleaniris almost whispered, but said it just loudly enough for him to hear.

"Eleaniris," the tyrant cooed, not liking the distance she was trying to put between them with futile pushes of her small arms, "Accept what you have been given and enjoy it. Accept that you have someone that cares and wants to provide for you," he tried to nuzzle her neck with his nasal plate, but he was much too large to fit.  _That someone wants to make sparklings with you._ "Enjoy the life that I offer, precious, and do not be so hard on yourself."

"Can't you get it? Can't you  _understand_?" She gave up on her fight, allowing him to smother her against his cheek. A dark piece of her didn't know why she fought him anymore; she always ended up in the same place.

Oh wait, maybe it was because he reminded her of all of the ruthless dictators Earth had ever known, wrapped into one package. Yes, that was it. Stalin, Bonaparte, Genghis Khan, all brought together into the monster trying to woo her.  _Wonderful_.

"Please, let my people go." The reluctant-Empress asked, widening her optics and trying to appeal to him. " _Please_."

His optics narrowed and he withdrew, the air becoming icy and cold, "You are no longer one of them. Your allegiance is to the Decepticons, to  _me_."

He set her down on the berth, stalking to the door. There Megatron stopped and turned to growl angrily, "I will be in Command for the rest of the day. You have free run of the palace, so long as someone is with you."

With that, he left. Strangely, the back of her mind told her that she was being insensitive and hurtful, rude and impolite. She was torn between being angry and being remorseful.

But she supposed that that was what he wanted. She placed her servo over her left wrist, over the bone encased there, and thought fiercely,  _No. I will_ _ **never**_ _be one of you._

* * *

She found Borealis and Wheelie on the floor of the living room, the latter trying to keep the former out of his Energon cube.

"You already had yours, obnoxious beast!" He was pushing feebly at Borealis' large beak, the gryphon ignoring him and lapping at the Energon she could reach.  _Reminds me of someone and myself._

"Borealis, leave him alone." The two immediately noticed her presence, the gryphon dipping her head and Wheelie smiling while he hastily finished his Energon.

"Who about a trip? We could see about those wings of yours." Eleaniris smiled at Borealis happily, pushing thoughts of Megatron away. It was so  _exhausting_  to focus on her hate of him all the time.

' _If it pleases you, mistress.'_ The cool, smooth-as-silk voice spoke in her head.

' _No "mistress" stuff, please. Or "Queen" or "Empress."'_ Eleaniris thought back, walking up to the gryphon and stroking her between the crests on top of her head. She chirped at her, nudging her beak into the Empress' servo.

"Let's see…" Borealis crouched down, lowering so that Eleaniris could settle onto her back. She placed her legs over the hinges of the creature's wings and arranged the front panel of her skirt, tucking it all the way under her and saying "Come on, Wheelie. We'll see how she does." The gryphon peered back to look at her and she smiled affectionately, patting her neck reassuringly.

Wheelie sighed and obeyed the request of his mistress, walking closer so that Eleaniris could pick him up and set him between her legs. He shuddered at the thought of what Megatron would do if he saw his position.  _Probably squish me like an organic._

"How often have you flown, Borealis?" Eleaniris bit her lip slightly, studying the gryphon's purple optics.

' _I flew back when my updates were done, and I have been practicing.'_

Satisfied, Eleaniris nodded and grabbed ahold of some of the filaments of her mane. "Try hovering."

Borealis didn't need to be told twice. She launched upwards and flapped her wings vigorously, holding a good height off the ground. Once stabilized, the gryphon stayed in place and looked at her mistress questioningly.

"Good." Eleaniris smiled genuinely, "Do a couple circles or something."

She climbed upwards towards the ceiling and levelled out before turning to fly past the windows, supporting the weight of her mistress and the drone perfectly. They did several loops, Eleaniris relaxing and beginning to enjoy the sensation of the air current passing over her metal. It was eerily similar to a rollercoaster ride, but much smoother.

' _Would you be comfortable with leaving this room?'_ Eleaniris asked in her head, the action starting to become natural, ' _Flying in the palace hallways, I mean?'_

The gryphon replied, ' _Only if you are comfortable, Elle.'_

' _Much better. And yes, I am. I believe that you have shown your abilities well.'_

Borealis sounded sheepish, almost shy, ' _You are very kind. Thank you.'_

* * *

The ride through the hallways was incredibly thrilling. Borealis had to weave between several helms of passing robots, who each gave them quizzical, then amused, looks. Eleaniris needed the company of someone she knew and trusted to help her vent her frustration, which was what had brought her to the library.

She was in luck, as the librarians had no invaders to serve. She had found them sitting on one of the smaller tables in the center of the library, talking animatedly and - to her relief - holding cubes of Energon.  _At least they are fed,_ she had thought. The discussion had soon turned to her after the femmes had greeted her, each of them trying to offer assistance of some sort.

"If someone could turn Emperor Kuzco into a llama for me, that would be great." Eleaniris swirled her own cube, watching the contents and sighing. Wheelie, by her side, had to look up what she was talking about. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, agreeing.

Talia giggled at the reference but tried to reassure, "I'm sure that he isn't  _that_  bad."

"Well, he isn't. To me." She ran a servo down her face, "I'm just so  _confused_  all the time." Borealis, whom Eleaniris was leaning against, chirped and placed her head in her mistress' lap, giving her a hug with a large wing.

"What about?" Sophia asked, leaning forward and looking at her with concerned green optics.

"For one, I don't understand  _why_  he does this to me. I mean, why choose  _me_  at all?" Eleaniris started her list, keeping her optics on the Energon.

"I don't understand what he is trying to accomplish also. He could be trying to make me into some sort of  _concubine_  or he is actually...actually…" She couldn't say the words. The thought of it sickened her, that the  **alien**  that conquered and enslaved their planet might be trying to court her and win her affection.

_I think I can rule that one out. That's just too_ _**wrong** _ _._

Wheelie kept his mouth shut. He really couldn't say anything to her; it wasn't his place, as a lowly drone. The matters of royals, like Eleaniris and Megatron, were not his own.

She opted to continue, "On top of all of  _that_ , I don't know what to feel about him. On one hand I should  _hate_  him for what he has done, what he is  _still_  doing, but on the other I should  _appreciate_  him for how he treats me." The femmes were completely quiet, their gazes telling her of their sympathy. Eleaniris' vocalizer failed her, and she fell silent. Her emotions were too much for her to go on longer, as she would have normally.

Kimora was the first to speak, the librarian tilting her helm and placing a servo on Eleaniris' shoulder tentatively, "I'm sorry, Eleaniris, but I don't have an answer. Sometimes, these things sort themselves out with time. Just keep fighting, I suppose, and know that we are with you."

She smiled graciously at the yellow-eyed femme, her white optics still sad, "Thank you."

In one of the asiles, Grace slowly turned back around and krept out the door quietly.  _That poor, poor woman._ She had briefly wondered if she should show some support and reveal herself, but the depression and absolute anguish in the room was stifling. Eleaniris was just too upset, and Grace was worried that she might surprise and destabilize her if she showed herself.

A comm. from her alien sweetheart distracted her from her musings.

* * *

"Susan, there have been new quarters prepared for you." Grace called to her friend from Soundwave's shoulder, "And we have a new assignment."

Susan's helm peeked from around the cabinet door, greeting her coworker with a grin, "Really? So I can get out of this box?"

Grace giggled, making Soundwave smirk at the delicate sound, "Yeah."

She climbed down from the cabinet and onto the couch, walking up to Soundwave's offered servo and stepping on.

"What's the new project?" Susan was cheerful, yet guarded. She didn't trust the officer one bit, recognizing him but not actually knowing him. If he was anything like his master, though, she knew that she could not spare an ounce of faith in him. In her opinion Grace's relaxed demeanor was a mistake, an irredeemable error on her coworker's part.

The officer that had hosted them carried them out the door, turning to go down the hallway and downstairs. "Remember how we tidied up Eleaniris?"

"Yes." Susan wondered where Grace was going with this.

"Well, evidently Megatron wants us to do the same for the palace slaves." Grace's tone betrayed her surprise and joy at the concept, "Supposedly they are having new uniforms made, and he wants them to look formal." Susan couldn't see her friend, since the robot's head was in the way, but she could hear the shrug in her voice.

"That's….unexpected." Susan was also happy that the slaves would get better conditions, but she still didn't like the thought of them remaining slaves. "I wonder why he did that?"

Soundwave was listening to their conversation as he toted them to the basement but not really devoting any processor space to it. Most of him was thinking about what he would do to Grace when he got rid of this other femme.  _Mmmm._

"Who knows?" Grace said truthfully. Their enslaver's change in attitude was peculiar and sudden, seemingly without explanation.

* * *

Megatron sat on his throne in Command, observing the work of those below his dais while also keeping an optic on his own. He had thought long and hard about what his Queen (her government's rules were inconsequential to him) had said and what could be done to resolve how she was feeling.

On his way to Command that morning, after their fight, he had come across a palace slave. It was small - as all humans were to him, as was his beautiful Eleaniris - and filthy, the too-large, grey uniform hanging off its form like a sack. It had stuttered an apology and skittered out of his way, bowing its head and letting its oily locks drape downwards to hide its gaunt face. He continued on his way, not sparing the human a second glance nor a second thought. The slave was well-behaved and knew its race's place - servitude to himself and his Decepticons.

Normally such an occurrence would not have distracted his attention, but the argument with his Empress (he would call her whatever he pleased) made him reflect on the slave. Its appearance was unfit and completely inappropriate to be in a  _human_  palace, much less  _his._ When he arrived in the headquarters for Decepticon Command, which took up most of the first floor of his palace, he had set others to work designing a new palace uniform and comming Soundwave to put his femme back in service.

He propped his chin in a servo, the other holding the datapad containing some report or other. He had no energy to focus on it, however, as his processor drifted back to the place it always went.

Eleaniris.

The Emperor and Supreme Commander of the Decepticons couldn't understand what he was doing wrong. Perhaps he was unintentionally violating some fundamental human courtship rule? Even though he knew his Queen was no longer human - as he told her often - he accepted that she was still raised in their culture, as disgusting he found that thought.

He had watched Soundwave interact with his human, little Grace, the whole time she was in servitude to his Queen. He had kept careful notes of how he treated her and how she reciprocated, wanting to try to mimic them with Eleaniris. So far, none of it seemed to be working. He felt that every time he saw progress with the tiny femme, he ended up going back  _tenfold_  the amount of headway he had made.

The Supreme Commander of the billion (and counting, he was pleased to add) Decepticons was struggling to win over a femme the size of his servo.

He had shown her how much he cared, as Soundwave implied he should, but still  _nothing_. He had even cared for her when she was human, given her luxury and a life free of pain.

_He was sitting on the throne of his throne room, reclined against the back. His servo was absently stroking the human Eleanor, who was seated on his thigh. She was still a little wild and high-tempered, as he had just caught her a couple of Earth weeks ago, but she was starting to tame down a little._

_Much to his pleasure._

_He was reading a datapad when a whispered word caught his audio. The female obviously didn't think that he had heard her, her gaze directed away from him. However, she underestimated the superiority of Cybertronian hearing ability._

" _Damn." She breathed, shifting uncomfortably on his thigh and tightening her arms around her bare midsection._

_He cocked his helm and leaned to look over her, "What's wrong, fleshling?"_

_She scrambled to place her hands over the apex of her thighs, but the movement was not fast enough to hide the red trickle of blood between her legs. He may not have known much about the human body, but he thought he knew that none of that red fluid should be leaving her body._

_At_ _**all** _ _._

" _Its nothing, honestly." She squirmed under his gaze, a grimace crossing her features and she clutched her abdomen tighter._

 _Did she have a parasite? Was she dying? He didn't know, but replied in a growl, "Blood_ isn't  _nothing."_

 _Despite her hasty protests he picked her up and practically ran to the doors, headed for Scalpel. He felt some of the liquid get on his servo but was not disgusted with it as he usually would have been. Instead he felt concern, a deep, clawing worry sliding through his systems. He thought with a start,_ What if this means that she cannot carry my sparklings?

_That ponderance spurred him into an almost-sprint, impatiently punching in the code for entry to the medical bay. "SCALPEL!" he bellowed, making the miniscule scientist jump in his place on one of the side tables._

_The "doctor" turned from his vials quickly, standing at attention before his mammoth lord. "How might I se-"_

_Megatron cut him off, setting Eleanor on the metal before the scientist and pinning her so that her legs were spreadeagle. "She's bleeding, but appears uninjured." Eleanor was fuming, clenching and unclenching her tiny hands, but he paid no mind to her and switched to Cybertronian._ "What's wrong with her?"

_Scalpel crept between her legs, inspecting her pelvic regions with careful pokes from his long, two-pronged arm. He scuttled to one of the smaller containers on his worktop, removing a probe and holding it over her bare belly. Megatron watched like a cyberhawk, making sure that his future Queen would not be harmed. Scalpel was known to be what the humans called "trigger-happy" and he had seen plenty of human test subjects go to waste before Eleanor was caught, their bodies a chopped up and bloody mess. Some of them were still alive when they were disposed of, and their screams were gurgling instead of sharp and piercing._

_The doctor started laughing, an odd sound that was somewhere between high-pitched and normal._ "This had better not affect her cyberformation or ability to carry sparklings,"  _he growled dangerously._

 _Scalpel shook his helm, still chuckling but replying in Cybertronian_ "It is not a sign of  **infertility**  at all, Megatron."  _He patted Eleanor's belly carefully with one of his minute servos,_ "It's actually a sign of  **fertility**  in human females. She's menstruating."

 _He narrowed his optics, not really believing him. Scalpel continued,_ "You should be able to impregnate her. Again, it is a display of fertility. It happens every human month or so, nothing is wrong with her."  _The scientist again went to one of the boxes of human medical supplies - which Megatron had ordered be fetched prior to Eleanor's capture - and pulled out several items. He handed them to Eleanor, who was shooting him glares of anger and embarrassment._ "Those will help her with the pain, and I have pills available to keep this from occurring again -"

"No. It is alright."  _He collected Eleanor and went up to his apartments, letting her clean herself off in her private bathroom and do the necessary preparation._

 _Even though he was irked at her pain, none of it came close to the elation at the knowledge that she was fertile. He made her comfortable, even finding a heating pad for her to use at night and oftentimes stroking her until she slept. From that day onwards, every time she would feel those "cramps" he would smile when she wasn't looking. It was, after all, a sign that she could carry and develop his young._ _ **Their**_   _young._

* * *

Eleaniris returned in the afternoon to the quarters with a heavy heart, wondering if Megatron was there yet. A slave had waved her down and given her a message, and she wanted to read it before her captor got back.

Their shared rooms were empty and she sighed in happy relief. Plopping down on the living room couch with Borealis, she opened her subspace and found the pig-latin letter.

_Katniss,_

_Another plague is on the way. But be careful and take heed Mockingjay._

_You're playing with the big boys now._

_The Council of Nation._

She quickly re-subspaced it and pondered what she had just read. She remembered that sequence of  _Prince of Egypt_ perfectly well, and it did not bode well for her.

The Decepticons were, indeed, an enemy to be grappled with. They would try to force her to bow, would promise her a life free of worry, but none of it would make her back down.

She would try her absolute  _hardest_  to see that that never happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, the Title of Nobility Clause that Eleaniris mentions is a real thing in the US Constitution. Look it up! Also, I have had a few questions about Megatron's and Eleaniris' sizes. Picture Megatron as his Revenge of the Fallen form and Eleaniris as a human's size. Megatron possess a subspace mass distributor that can only decrease his size, not increase it.
> 
> I love all of you guys! Please, if you have time, leave a review! Thanks!


	39. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I don't own Prince of Egypt.

The Supreme Commander of the Decepticons shifted on his throne in Command, scrutinizing the plans on the datapad in front of him. It was only one of many schemes he had recently put his forces to work on, but this one was scheduled to be complete later that day. Satisfied with the progress he put in a note to see it tomorrow and set it aside before picking up the next tablet. It was surprisingly quiet in the dark room, which was lit only by the translucent screens in front of each of the officers and the odd holographic display around the room.

He examined the prototype design displayed. A new uniform for his palace slaves, one for the males and the females alike. A black, long-sleeved, collared shirt and pants would be worn underneath a plum apron that would fit snugly around the waist, like a skirt. They would be made in different sizes, cut to fit the individual perfectly. Females would be required to wear their hair back in a braid (it was one of Megatron's favorite hairstyles for Eleaniris to wear when she was human) and a silver, braided, decorative clip. Males would be given a strip of cloth in the same shade as the apron that hung around their neck - a "tie" he thought it was called - and their hair would be trimmed short.

He stroked his chin approvingly, finding that if the plan was executed well it would please his Empress.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he might get a little kiss from those tiny lip components. He smirked at the thought, signing his approval with the stylus provided and setting it aside. The mechs charged with the project would receive a notification to start manufacturing them immediately.

He was about to start on the next when his designation was called. Looking up, he saw Soundwave with his helm dipped at the bottom of the dais. One of his servos gripped his slave to his chassis, the little femme clutching the metal comfortably. She looked pleased to be there, and Megatron clenched his jaw.

"My liege, I have come to make a humble request." Soundwave adjusted the femme, letting her stand next to one of his legs. She moved to touch him, latching on with a servo and keeping her optics downcast respectfully. His temporary second switched to Cybertronian, " _If I may."_

" _Go on,"_ Megatron let the datapad turn off, leaning on one of the arms of his chair. He let his optics bore into the officer, flicking between both him and his slave.

" _If it pleases you, I wish to make a subspace mass distributor for myself."_ The Commander raised an optic ridge, somewhat surprised at the straightforwardness, " _Grace has been examined, and she retains the ability to carry."_

" _I wish to be the sire of any sparklings that she has."_ He stopped, watching his Lord for a response.

 _If_ _ **I'm**_   _not getting any,_ _ **no one**_   _is._ He gestured for Soundwave to follow him into his office, where they could speak in private. He did so, helm bowed as he trailed the towering Decepticon with Grace on his heel.

Megatron took a seat behind the large desk in the sparsely decorated office. The interior was dark as the rest of Command was, the only source of illumination being the holographic maps of the galaxy and surrounding systems. The sole decoration was a detailed painting of Eleaniris, as a human, on the beach of their little vacation island. She was napping in a tide pool, the water warm from exposure to the sun, her lower half submerged. She was lying on her front, her head propped up on crossed arms, her face relaxed and at peace as she slept. A large wave had just broken on the shore behind her, the spray illuminated in the afternoon sun and providing the perfect majestic backdrop for his little Queen.

It was one of his fondest memories of her, carefully stored in his memory banks. He had ordered one of the human artists be brought to him to paint it without her knowledge. He was rewarded with his life for his work and now the large painting hung to the side of his desk, displayed for all to see. She had yet to lay her optics upon it, but he planned to keep it secret until he had bonded with her. Megatron could already see her little gasp, shocked at the expression of his admiration for her.

Grace, on the other hand, thought that Eleaniris' gasp would be one of horror and misery. She told herself that she could not relay this to Eleaniris; it would just hurt her more than she already had been.

If that was even possible.

" _You may not. Not until I have made significant progress with Eleaniris."_ He had brought him in so that his mechs would not hear of this...this  _failure_. If word that he wasn't hard with Eleaniris was passed among his forces, there was no guarantee of loyalty and fear of him. They might run rampant and start questioning his orders, and that was an ordeal that he could not start with now.

" _Please, my lie-"_

" _No."_ Soundwave - and Grace - slumped in defeat. He felt a twinge of jealousy that Soundwave had a willing mate and  _he_ , Megatron, Supreme Commander, Champion Gladiator and Slagmaker of Kaon, could not find one. " _You are dismissed."_

He didn't like having to deny his most loyal officer something he deserved, but he couldn't bear the sight. He knew that he would lose it.

" _Sir, I might be able to help."_ Soundwave offered, watching his Lord carefully. Megatron's gaze fixated on him, his emotions flickering between appreciation and anger. It was dangerous to offer him, an admitted warlord and tyrant,  _any_  kind of assistance whatsoever. He was too prideful to take help, but now…

He needed it.

" _Proceed_." He sat back in his chair, crossing his enormous arms over his chassis.

" _Well, could it be that she is…"_  Soundwave shifted nervously, a movement so small it would have been unnoticeable to any that were not accustomed to their life depending on seeing such insignificant motions. " _Scared_?"

Megatron raised an optic ridge, not expecting this opinion. He had thought that her fear of him was gone, had been absent for some time. " _How so?"_

" _You are a very large mech, Megatron. You might be overwhelming her, and your strength knows no competitors."_ He let his chassis swell with pride at his implied ability to protect her.

" _Also, wasn't she present when you were interrogating several subjects?"_ Slag, Soundwave was right. He clenched his jaw, thinking about what he had done.

_Another rebel had been caught and was waiting for him to get information from its pathetic organic body. Taking Eleanor here was probably a mistake, but he thought it an opportunity to show off his fitness as a mate._

" _We can do this the easy way or the hard way, fleshling." He snarled, looming over the human and enveloping it in his shadow. Eleanor was on the side table, next to several boxes, shifting uncomfortably. "Now, tell me where the rebel base is, hmm? Or better yet, who leads you?"_

_The rebel made no response, staring up at him with defiant organic eyes. Megatron snarled, lowering his helm closer. "Very well. The hard way it is."_

_He snatched up the fragile human, scratching his sides carelessly and inciting a yelp. He walked over to another table where a tub of water was waiting. He held the rebel under the water, squeezing it just enough to be painful, for half a minute. Pulling it out and openly laughing at the coughing and gasping organic, "_ _ **Tell**_   _me what you know."_

_Again he was refused, and again it was put under the water. He ended up killing the human out of frustration after a while, holding the revolutionary in the tub and crushing it. The previously clean water turned red with its fluids, several tissues and pieces of flesh floating around._

_After cleaning his servo in a separate sink in the torture room, he turned to search for his little human, the only human he didn't want to hurt. "Eleanor?" he called, looking around the room. She was nowhere to be seen, and he called again, starting to become worried. Had she found a way out of the room?_

" _Eleanor, come out." He heard a little sob from one of the empty boxes, and he opened it to see her crying in a little ball. "Eleanor." he breathed in relief, reaching for her, but she scurried out from under his claws and over the low side to disappear into the disorganized pile of boxes._

_He dug through carefully, checking for her in all of the nooks and crannies until he reached the last of the stack. He slid aside the top, which he noted was ajar, and saw her quivering in a corner. She pushed against the container when she saw him, whining and crying. The otherwise silent guard in the room snickered at this and remarked in English, "Aww. Poor helpless human. You got her good, my liege. Its hilarious."_

_This only made her weep harder and curl into a tighter ball. Irked by the drone, he snapped, "Out._ _**Now** _ _." He held up his servos submissively and left._

" _I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay." He tried to soothe in his lowest voice, but even he heard his gravelly, harsh, grating rasp._ Slag.

" _How do_ _ **I**_   _know that?" she sobbed, her beautiful and expressive eyes looking at him, full of tears, as she cowered in the corner._

" _Don't be scared, precious. You're safe." He continued to reassure and plucked her up, thankfully able to keep from injuring her despite her struggles._

Could it be that she is afraid of being harmed like that insurgent by my  _own_  servos?  _He promised, "I won't hurt you like that." He cradled her against his cheek, trying to stroke her to comfort her. "It's okay. Don't cry."_

_She ignored him anyway, pushing against him and fighting as she wailed. Each ghostly cry tore at his spark, slowly tearing him to pieces. He waited until she was done and then went up to his quarters to put her to bed._

_It had taken several days for her to relax around him again, and even more weeks for her to learn that it was alright; that she could trust him._

Yes. It  _might_  be an issue. " _Your suggestion is noted, Soundwave. You may leave."_

The officer saluted him and exited with his small mate, leaving him to reflect on ways to gain Eleaniris' trust.  _What if she was scared instead of impressed by that gladiator tape?_

He groaned and rested his helm on clasped servos,  _Poor little thing. Don't worry precious, you're safe with me. But how do I let you know that? How do I prove it to you?_

 _You could always place cameras in Soundwave's rooms,_ a silky voice suggested. He scowled at the thought and disregarded it. Megatron really did trust Soundwave, more so than his other mechs anyway, and he was actually reluctant to take away the privilege of privacy. He decided that that would be his last resort, his Plan Z.

 _What to do then?_ An answer popped into his processor, and he admitted it was the easiest way available at the moment.

* * *

_He knew that she was the rebel leader. He knew, and his red optics bored into her like a screwdriver would a piece of wood. Yet he looked as if he was not going to kill her. Instead he chuckled darkly and leaned back in his throne. The room was full of spectators, all towering over her by at least ten feet, but she had her own little solitary circle in the center._

" _Rumble, Frenzy, give this leader our answer." She hated those drones. She rarely saw them, since Megatron knew their destructiveness, but they were still menacing. They gave their own malevolent chuckles and moved towards her, motioning with their arms to unseen slaves that shuttered the windows and dimmed the lights. An eerie gloom was present now, not dark enough to render her blind but just enough to unnerve her._

" _So you think you've got friends in high places, with the power to put us on the run," Frenzy said the last part humorously, as if it was a joke only he knew the punchline to._

" _Well forgive us these smiles on our faces," Rumble's voice made her turn around, "You'll know what power is when we are done."_

" _You're playing with the big boys now," Frenzy said, winding around her and sweeping long arms._

" _Playing with the big boys now," Rumble hissed._

" _Every move and gesture tells you who's the best here," Frenzy drew her attention._

_They moved so that they were both behind her and practically sang in unison, "You're playing with the big boys now." They pushed her out the large front doors and her optics widened in horror at the billions of Decepticons standing there, stretching to the horizon and laughing at her torment and her pathetic fight. "You're playing with the big boys now!" They sang louder, more triumphantly, "You're playing with the big boys now!"_

" _Stop this foolish mission!" Frenzy said, waving his servos in her face._

" _Watch a true Commander," Rumble declared, spinning her to look back at Megatron. Both finished, "Command an army how!" She bristled as they practically insulted her, implying that she was not in control of a military of significance. Or one that had been significant, anyway, before Invasion._

_He looked triumphant and satisfied, but also...bored? Bored, as if he thought it an easy victory. He was like a wolf catching a half-dead, half-starved rabbit._

_She was the rabbit._

_Yet he also looked confident, as if expecting a certain outcome. How she hated his arrogance. But she loathed even more the fact that it was founded, that he had reason to be so self-satisfied._

_That_ **is**   _what happens when you win all the time._

_But he did not look smug, which she found odd. He just relaxed on his throne, swirling a glass of high-grade and waiting for something._

" _Pick up your silly pride femme," Rumble growled and said with Frenzy, "You're playing with the big boys now!" Frenzy threw back his helm and laughed. They were forcing her back into the middle of the crowd, which had been observing the spectacle silently the whole time._

" _You're playing with the big boys now," they sang, "You're playing with the big boys now!" A scorpion joined them from the crowd and he stalked behind her, gliding his tail around her neck and sliding it away._

" _By the might of our forces, you will kneel before us," Rumble and Frenzy were still moving her through the crowd without her own knowledge, "Kneel to our splendorous power!"_

" _You put up a front," Frenzy said and Rumble completed, "You put up a fight,"_

_Rumble switched off to Frenzy, "And just to show we feel no spite," Rumble took charge again, "You can be our Empress!"_

" _But first femme it's time to bow," Frenzy demonstrated, holding his arms out to his sides while the whole audience echoed eerily "Bow down!"_

" _Or it's your own grave you'll dig femme," they mock-warned, still backing her up and repeating over and over, "You're playing with the big boys,"_

" _Playing with the big boys…"_

" _Playing with the big boys now!"_

_They finished with clanging, metallic applause from the assembled officers and left down the steps, disappearing into the crowd._

_Wait...STEPS? Slowly she glanced from side to side, and sure enough two trunk-like legs sat on the edges of her vision._ So this is what he has been waiting for…

For me to be scared back to him, to come running and looking for safety and comfort.  _She had no time to reflect further before he interrupted her thoughts._

" _Come here," the legs' owner growled, scooping her up into his metal palm. Megatron held her in front of his face, which seemed double the usual size, and purred like an overgrown lion. "Give up, precious. It's over; your side has lost."_

_His face seemed to big for this to be reality, his blood red optics half her size and vents impossibly hot, which was the factor that made her wake up._

Eleaniris started awake from the nightmare, practically panting. She was on the couch still, Borealis recharging against her side and moonlight streaming through the enormous windows. She relaxed and leaned back against a hard metal chest, sighing in contentment before shooting up again.

Sure enough she was sitting in shrunken Megatron's lap, her helm coming to the middle of his chassis where a red glow emanated from behind the metal. She looked down to see an ever-so-faint white glow from her own chest, which made her frown. Megatron's large servos clutched her hips, the two of them actually overlapping because of their size. His optics were dark and he looked to be dreaming.

As if to prove her point, the warlord bucked his hips into her behind with a sharp clang and ground against her. His strong servos made it impossible to wriggle out from his grasp, and she settled for hitting his chest to see if that would wake him. It didn't and he bucked again with inhuman strength, making her gasp.

Eleaniris couldn't help but shudder at the thought of sex with this beast. Her processor did, anyway, but her chest and loins heated at the prospect of being pounded senseless. Scared of her reaction, she yelped loudly when he pulled her down against him to grind.

"Stop!" Megatron jumped, his servos releasing her and letting her slide to the surface of the metal couch.

His rubies turned to her, glowing in the gloom and watching her pant. He must have inferred what had happened and apologized shallowly, "Precious, I was recharging. I did not know what I was doing." He reached to her but she scuttled away from him, not knowing what to expect. He sighed at this and dropped his servo, peering at her with soft optics, "Do I scare you, my dear Eleaniris?"

What kind of question was  **that**?

What kind of question  _was_  that? She didn't really know the answer. Eleaniris was sure, absolutely, completely  _sure_ that she hated him for ruining her life, but  _fearing_  him?

"I-I think I'm more afraid of  _what_  you can do." She didn't know what to feel as he wiped his face with a servo and groaned.

"Why? I thought I had shown you how much I cared."  _He is genuinely clueless, isn't he?_

"Cared?  _Cared_?" She snapped, "I don't want anything to do with a man that  **enslaves**   _children_! That has them whipped and starved and then expects them to work like  _adults_!"

He cocked his helm at her, narrowing his optics at her dishonorable suggestion, "I did not enslave younglings, Eleaniris. What are you speaking of?"

She snarled in frustration and pointed at him in accusation, "I  **witnessed**   _your_  slave masters whipping children until their backs were  _raw_! I  **know**  what I saw!"

Even though he knew it was late in the night, Megatron barked into his comm. " _ **Soundwave!"**_

It was a moment before there was a faintly tired reply, " _My liege?"_

" _My quarters! NOW! And bring the master log of my orders with you!"_ He ended the comm. before Soundwave could answer him.  _Does she really think that I am such a_ _ **monster**_   _that I would enslave_ _ **younglings**_ _?_

He tapped the cuff and restored his old size just before the doors opened and Soundwave entered with a datapad in servo. Eleaniris watched with hate-filled optics, her arms crossed as she stood on the metal surface of couch. Even though it was hard the metal did flex to accommodate the pressure on it like any coach would, which made it hard to stand on. She wobbled a few times but managed to keep her stance, and pride, intact.

Borealis had awoken and taken her place by her mistress' side, not daring to question what was happening.

"How might I serve you?" Soundwave was impatient to get back to little Grace, who was presently recharging in his -  _their_  - berth. He barely managed to keep his desire out of his voice.

Megatron gave no greeting, as usual, "Is there a record of an order to enslave human younglings?" He did not look at his second, but kept his optics focused on Eleaniris' in a duel. Neither of them stood down and she glared at him with loathing.

Soundwave tapped on the datapad, searching. "I have only one record of one order on enslavement of the human race."

Thinking he had won, Megatron chuckled and growled knowingly, "And what might that order say?"

"I quote, 'Let it be known that the Earth has been annexed by the Decepticon Empire and that all of her resources are now property of the Decepticons. We will do as we see fit with this planet, and all homo sapiens are to live and serve as slaves and property of the Decepticon Empire.'" Eleaniris shuddered at the content of Megatron's victory speech from the third, and last, day of the Invasion. She remembered watching that in a hotel room in scorched and torn clothes, remembered him crushing her Vice President, mentor and friend, after he was done staking his claim and gulping the Earth down his huge throat.

Megatron smirked at her, "See, precious, I did not enslave any younglings." She narrowed her optics at him in response and swiftly turned her back to him.  _Liar._

Soundwave corrected hesitantly, "Actually, my liege, you ordered that  _all_  humans be enslaved. It says here, 'all homo sapiens are to live and serve as slaves and property of the Decepticon Empire,' meaning younglings as well." He stepped back from his master, knowing that he was in dangerous territory and that his life was in limbo for such a blatant correction.

But Megatron payed no attention to him. He was too busy thinking.  _Slag. She's right._

He crouched and sighed, "Precious, look at me." She turned to him slowly, her white optics distrustful of him. "Eleaniris, I didn't know that they were slaves. I would  **never, never,** _ **ever**_  knowingly enslave younglings."

She raised her chin and continued to look at him, optics becoming a little more trusting. "Soundwave, set up plans to have them removed, the youngest with their Carriers, to a different location. I will discuss it with you tomorrow in Command. You are dismissed." The officer dipped his helm respectfully and left, the doors booming closed.

She cocked her helm at him, opening her stance little by little, "Really? You're going to, to leave them alone?"

"I told you that I had no knowledge of their enslavement." He was on his knees so that his face was level with her, and what she did surprised him.

She didn't know what she had been expecting from the news but she had not been willing to even  _consider_  that he would leave them alone. And so she ran forward and hugged his face, kissing him on his huge lips before she even knew what she was doing.

Megatron's optics widened at the initial surprise but then he relaxed at her intimate touch. Emboldened, he pushed back gently and tried to climb up onto the couch without parting his lips from hers. He managed and hit the button on his cuff, shrinking to (about) her size before scooping her up in his arms. "Thank you," she whispered in his audio, throwing her lithe arms over his thick shoulders, "Thank you so much."

He kissed her audio fins gently, purring at her willingness. "You are very welcome, my beautiful Queen."

_Maybe, if you lay it on as thick as possible, he will do the same for the adults too._

She leaned back and reconnected their lips, gasping when she felt one of his servos clutch at her through the rear panel of her skirt. He took advantage of the gape and pushed his glossa into her mouth, easily dominating hers and tasting her sloppily with his thick appendage. Her gratitude was wearing off and with some effort she pulled away, "Thank you so  _very_   _much_." His optics were soft red, glowing in the dark of the room.

He sat down, setting her in his lap as Borealis approached them, chirping quietly and putting her head in her mistress' lap. She was disgusted with what she had done, yet her chest was pulsing happily. As he nuzzled the place her ears used to be, she groaned inwardly  _Why? What do I do?_

Elsewhere, the Energon factory slaves prepared to sacrifice their lives for the good of the human race. It was amazing, the unity that such dark times could bring about. They wrote down the shipment numbers and handed them off to the messenger, hope in their hearts for victory.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream with Rumble and Frenzy was inspired by the scene from Prince of Egypt.
> 
> Thank you guys so much! If you have the time, please leave a positive/negative review! I'm all ears on your comments.


	40. The Buyer's Remorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I don't own anything to do with the Star Wars saga.

Long after Megatron had fallen into recharge Eleaniris still lay against his chest. She didn't want to move and wake him again so she stayed as still as possible, remaining in her place in his lap. Besides him, Borealis had decided to use her legs as a pillow, her large helm turned slightly on its side and purple optics shuttered. Vaguely she wondered where Wheelie was, but she thought she had seen him take refuge under the couch.

She hadn't had any time to reflect on the meaning of her nightmare, as she tried to do each time she had one. Her mother would often tell her that there was a reason that such dreams came and Eleaniris was intent on finding out what the meaning was behind her mind's cheesy, tacky, cheap mockery of the corresponding scene from  _Prince of Egypt._

Her subconscious was aware that she was losing, and an even smaller part wanted her to give in. Hence why she ran to Megatron in the dream, even if it wasn't with her awareness, and why he had told her to give up on her fight. Her mind had pointed to his vast army outside the throne room doors, had made Megatron's face bigger to emphasize his importance. She was deeply disturbed and felt very betrayed by herself for such thoughts of surrender.

But what of that kiss she had so willingly given him? Those  _kisses?_

She dismissed them as her showing her gratitude, rewarding him for something that she thought he would never do. The pleasure she felt would not be shooed like a chicken, however, and came back to haunt her. Satisfaction that part of her race was free permeated the darkness cast by guilt of her indulgence, making her smile a little.

But how did she know that he wasn't lying?

He had lied to her with those history data pads, had probably lied about James as well. Shaking her helm to clear thoughts of her former lover, she focused on the proof that he wasn't lying.  _He told his officer directly, in front of me, in English, that they were to be relocated._

_Yet he said nothing about letting them go free. Relocation could mean slavery in more refined tasks, like manufacturing._

She was beginning to regret that kiss.

Not to mention the fact that she had fallen for the "I had no idea" lie.  _He is many things, but stupid is not one of them._ Yes, he was probably misleading her about that, too. He had been forced to cover it up and had flipped it so that she would be pleased with him. He did after all want her as a concubine, a sick form of living trophy.

Hell, he could even be lying about his age. She groaned,  _What am I to do? What am I to do?_

Recharge was uneasy for her, haunted with nightmares of an unseen terror chasing her and someone huge fighting it off. She could guess that it was Megatron protecting her from something, but what that was unknown.

* * *

" _My liege, you wished that I discuss this with you today?"_ Soundwave asked in Cybertronian, looking up at his lord on the dais of Command. This Megatron had given much thought to, finding that he could still have his way.

" _Find a way to keep them out of her sight. I want them kept enslaved, but they should be reassigned. In time they will replace the older ones. Work with Shockwave on devising a plan for them."_  He felt guilt for not making special accommodations for the children in the first place, but none for keeping them enslaved. It was his right to do with them as he saw fit, for it was  _he_  who owned this planet. Nonetheless he was pleased to see her so protective of children; her maternal instincts would be helpful when it came to his sparklings. She would be a fantastic carrier and creator for his young.

Megatron dismissed Soundwave and stared at the datapad in front of him, trying to make sense of what had happened last night. He had been surprised, sure, but he was interested in remembering  _how_  he was surprised; he was Megatron, Emperor of Destruction, and not one that should be waylaid with such major details.

Soundwave had been writing the victory speech and he had been distracted by that infernal Starscream. That was it. He had gone from approving segments of the speech to beating the slag out of his Air Commander for losing track of Eleanor and allowing her, a leader of prominence and one he had wanted to execute, to escape her "White House." He remembered now that Soundwave had been reading it while he was tossing his second around and that he had approved it before he had actually known  _what_  was in it. Then, when he was delivering it he had been too focused on the human he held in his servo, thinking about how it would feel to crush it. To feel flesh give in to the hard metal of his claws, to let the blood flow and coat the silver until it was crimson.

He couldn't get distracted like that again. Another mistake like that could be fatal for his command and position in the Decepticon armies.

But her kiss was something, at least. He wanted to take their relationship further, yet at the same time was worried about regressing. He didn't want to push her and make her change her mind, or scare her off again. He resolved that he would spend more time with her at her size level to take the edge off his enormity. In time she would become comfortable with the size difference, perhaps even learn to like that she fit in the center of his servo.

He had been given another report on the Autobots, this one confirming what the last one had and the one before that and the countless preceding others. They were still out there, in space, but not on Earth or anywhere close to it. He put in an order for sentries to be set up on watch duty.

Megatron could fight them later, though. For now his Queen was safe and that was all he wanted. He resolved that the hunt for them would continue after he had bonded with her, when he was sure of her loyalty and sure that she was settled. He would bring her their helms on stakes, would exhibit his strength when he tore out Prime's spark with his own servo and let Energon pool on the floor of his throne room.

Maybe then he would get more than a kiss.

* * *

Eleaniris requested that the other femmes have some training as well, as useless as it may be given their size. Oddly it had not taken much to convince Megatron to let them train; he was probably eager to please.

She circled the drone, clutching her blades and trying to slash at the weak spots in his armor. She wasn't actually trying to cut him open, but was merely mimicking the motion with her daggers. Megatron had started teaching her more and more, bringing her in every afternoon when he was done in Command. She shuddered at the recollection of some of those times. Today, though, Kimora, Sophia, Talia, Grace, and Susan had joined in the training room as well but were standing by the enormous windows spectating the fight.

When she received word from Nation about the Energon poisoning, she'd been careful to check her cubes for the serial shipment numbers they had provided her with. So far there wasn't anything and time had made her think about what would happen if she  _did_  receive one. Of course she wouldn't drink it, but what if Megatron got one? Did she  _really_  want him  _dead_?

He had done awful, horrible, sickening things to others  _in her presence_  but he had been kind to  _her_.  _Except for when he almost squeezed the life out of you for refusing to tell him what the documents were, or when he almost took you against your will after he crowned you his Queen,_ a bitter voice said sarcastically.  _But he apologized and tried to make up for those things. He doesn't seem the type to try to make up for actions either, being the powerful tyrant he is._

Eleaniris forced herself not to think about it, but not before her mind asked  _Who takes care of you if he's dead? Would Soundwave really be able to control his troops? What if Starscream takes his place?_

She was so  _tired_  of questions that could not be answered.

The drone's blade striking her to the floor knocked her out of her musings. "Keep your head in the game, my lady." She groaned, resetting her optics and taking the servo that was offered. She allowed him to help her up off the floor to stand.

Cutthroat, a drone that Megatron had said was "reprogrammed" to help train her and the other femmes, was more her size than the slave masters were. His armor was still a sleek black, but the tires on his frame gave away that he was once somebody's beloved Harley Davidson.

"Why don't you give yourself a break?" Cutthroat gestured, with his spear, to the side of the room. She nodded and thanked him politely.

Kimora stepped forward, bearing twin Katana swords, and assumed a fighting stance with the drone. She had told Eleaniris that they were a gift from one of the Officers, and though Elle had smiled cheerfully inside she had bristled.

"You act as if you have trained with these before," the drone congratulated and moved to swipe at her pedes with his spear.

Kimora dodged and grinned, "I have, since I was young."

Eleaniris couldn't help but chuckle. So full of fight, the femme was. She knew that Kimora had grown up surfing in Hawaii, an old pastime with her family, and had become a professional while studying Computer Science. Sadly another family tradition was to visit Washington D.C. in the fall, and that was where she had been when Megatron started this whole ordeal.

Talia was a quirky waitress at a bar, working the late hours but cheering customers up with her jokes and easy-going, light nature. She had been working on becoming a kindergarten teacher, a job that Eleaniris thought her well-suited for, when the Invasion happened.

Sophia worked as a secretary in one of the Congressional offices in D.C. She had always lived on the East Coast, being from a wealthy family. She said that she had been at lunch when the Capital was attacked.

The weapons that each of them held were gifts from someone in Megatron's Command with designs on the femme, all except for one. Susan had not received any, but if she had Eleaniris suspected that they had been refused. Motherly Susan was just too set in her ways, too angry with the Decepticons for what they had done. She walked to take her turn and Eleaniris let her use her daggers, watching but not seeing, her mind elsewhere.

She thought it curious that such monsters would bother with courting; especially since all they seemed to do was take what they pleased whenever they pleased. She suspected that it had something to do with Megatron's alleged no-rape rule, if that even existed. But considering that everything he said ended with an asterisk and had fine print - hell, he was a  _Decept_ icon - she wasn't so sure what to think of it. She was unable to reach a conclusion.

* * *

"That was the last one." Susan wiped her forehead in a leftover human gesture, clearing imaginary sweat from imaginary skin.

The man thanked her profusely, saying that he would remember this for as long as he lived. He also asked for her to relay his thanks to Megatron, the Decepticon responsible for the upgrades in clothing and cleanliness. Susan had bitten her lip at the reminder that some were stronger than others, that it took less for some to break.

"Thank goodness. How many was that? Two-hundred?" Grace plopped into a chair in the large, locker-esque bathroom and showers. The last week had been tiring, with training from the fighting drones and Soundwave keeping her up at night. Susan, Eleaniris, and the three librarians had joined her in their lessons, each with their own weapons.

Eleaniris had demonstrated that her daggers contained a special chemical that would paralyze the victim. She also said, Grace noticing her sadness and helplessness, that they would inform the Emperor of her location wherever they were used. Megatron's control was suffocating the poor woman, and he didn't even seem to realize it. He had only just returned to work, since the pile on Soundwave's desk had gone down, and the Mercedes had told her that he was slowly becoming more irritable and short-tempered than the in many years he had known him. According to her silver sweetheart, the Decepticon leader was several  _millions_  of years old and had headed the Decepticons for a little over a million years.

Grace had to hand it to Eleaniris for making an alien tyrant more frustrated than he had been in  _millions_  of years. However it also disgusted her that Megatron so desired her as to be so emotionally invested.

"Yeah, it was two hundred in total. We had a few more women yesterday than men today though." Grace nodded at Susan's answer, slouched in the chair. The new uniforms were indeed impressive and sharp-looking, Megatron even stopping by himself to look at the females yesterday. The sexes had been split over the two days and shower schedules had been set up for every other day for each sex for the future. They were group baths under cold water, but it was better than no shower at all. Each slave had also been issued several days' worth of clothing, which other slaves would be charged with washing and ironing. Megatron liked sharp creases, apparently.

Braids were another aspect of the new uniform and Grace knew those stemmed from his odd liking of Eleaniris' hair in that very style. She supposed it was the texture and pattern that he fancied, to be exact.

She had pulled Jasmine aside when the females were getting groomed, asking for any new messages to take to Eleaniris. None were given, but unfortunately the translator had been found by a cleaning drone and disposed of - luckily with no one being punished. It was inconsequential now given that they could understand Cybertronian but it was still one less pair of ears to spy on their invaders.

Grace stood from her seat and bid Susan goodbye, waving her farewell to the slaves outside the bathrooms and in the barracks. They nodded to her in gratitude, each sharply dressed and groomed, hopefully to Megatron's satisfaction.

* * *

Megatron sat before her at the table for the evening Energon, handing her her smaller cube and taking his own. "Thank you," she whispered, lowering her optics so that she would miss his smile.

"Of course." He opened it and raised it to his lips, still watching Eleaniris. She slyly checked the number on the lid for hers, and with horror saw that it checked out.

 _4NA-49284-3-07._ It was poisoned. She rose her optics to meet his, wondering if his was effected as well. Megatron took a sip, savoring it at first but then frowning at the taste. He spat it back into the cube, having seen far-too-many assassination attempts on part of Starscream to tolerate an off-tasting Energon ration. He looked down, relieved to see that her own cube was closed.

"Come. Someone has done something to our Energon." She stepped into his servo obediently, holding her cube. He collected his own and went down to the lab,  _It must be those insurgents again._

She watched absently as robots scurried aside to clear the path for Megatron. They seemed to be as afraid and jumpy around the Commander as she had been not so long ago, bowing their helms and not daring to meet his optics. Fearful was not quite the word to describe how she felt about him, per se, but apprehensive was. He was just too  _powerful_  for her not to be, both physically and positionally. The Emperor of Destruction, she had heard his followers call him with a tone of awe, admiration, and a little unease.

It was fitting for him, a conqueror and destroyer of worlds, but what about her? Did they call her the  _Empress_  of Destruction? She certainly hoped not.

Humans dove out of the path of his enormous pedes as well and their new look surprised her. She felt his gaze burning into her back and she looked up at him. His face was impassive but he asked, "Are you pleased with their new appearance?"

A girl, her hair pulled back into a neat braid, caught her optic before she answered him "Yes." She remembered that Megatron had loved her hair in braids, even ordering Susan and Grace to have it done that way. He would play with it out of boredom, passing the strand through his claws and being careful not to snag it on his sharp talons.

"Just 'yes?' You are very curt this afternoon, my dear. It comes across as..." He quirked an optic ridge and smirked while he lifted her to his face, " _unappreciative_." There was a demand in his voice alongside an underlying threat of regression on his orders.

Sensing what he wanted, she ground out, "Thank you."

He raised one of his ridges again, none-too-subtly asking for something. She had to reward him for "good behavior" though, and placed her obligatory, chaste peck on his lips. He purred lowly, deep in his throat, at his payment and tapped in the code for the laboratory doors. "Now you have it."

Shockwave was present, looking at something on a data pad display on one of the side tables. Megatron set the cube down and went straight to the point, "This Energon has been tampered with."

Shockwave's single red optic turned to look at him, completely ignoring her. "I will test it." He plucked up the Energon and held out his servo for hers, which she placed reluctantly in his metal palm.

She already knew what was going to happen. They would find the poison, track down the shipments, and probably kill whomever had added it. She slumped in defeat, letting him stroke her back with a deadly claw. "Don't worry about a thing, precious. You're safe."

* * *

"They need another plague. The bleach was found." Eleaniris rested her helm in her servos, sitting in the hidden back room of the library. The others were with her in the storage room full of empty, dark data pads. It was neatly kept, with a small table for them to sit around. They kept their voices low, not sure if unwelcome audios could be listening.

"Do we know how many were killed with this one?" Talia asked, trying to be sympathetic, "Maybe we made better progress!"

"The grand total?" Eleaniris sighed, hiding her optics from the femmes. "Three."

"Only-" Talia was shushed by Susan but her point was still made.

"Yes, only three." Eleaniris lowered her servos and tried to straighten. The soft blue light of the storage room might make her features a little harder to see, which was what she wanted. "The Decepticons win this one too."

"They say be careful what you wish for." Eleaniris focused on a data pad stack off to the side, "I wished for  _someone_  to show interest in me, and what do I get?"

"I get Evil Incarnate knocking on my door with a bouquet of roses." She knew that she tended to bring up herself all of the time, but she had to share her burden with someone. At this point it was therapeutic for her to talk about it. If she could not do anything else, she could cry on someone's shoulder in an attempt to keep her sanity - and  _sanctity_  - intact.

"He gave you roses? That's cu-" Talia was elbowed by Sophia, who gave her a warning look.

"That's better than what Bonecrusher gave me," Kimora muttered, "I got a handful of nice, prickly Bull Thistle with the roots still attached."

"Dandelions," Grace added, giggling at the memory. How clueless Soundwave had been at the very beginning...

"Shockwave -" the femmes turned their helms to gasp at Talia, openly wondering how she had gotten the notoriously stone-cold, emotionless mech to chase her. She smiled a little and continued "Gave me two dead goldfish."

"That's bizarre, but," Eleaniris leaned forward, " _Shockwave_? He put you in a box and stripped away your  _humanity_ without your permission." She was worried that the mech was only using the bright Talia to warm his berth and nothing more.

"Eleaniris, I'm sorry, but," Talia said meekly, respectfully, "we lost. They took our world, enslaved us, transformed us, and we've fought them without  _any_  success. Megatron is too strong for us, all of them are too strong. Maybe, maybe..."

"It is time to give up, time to accept our fate, time to accept them as our Masters." Talia cocked her helm, becoming thoughtful, "He looks like he cares about you a lot. I mean, all of those things he has offered you-"

"He enslaves  _children_  and  _kills_  for the fun of it!" Eleaniris shot up, her optics brightening in anger. "I  _can't_  give in to him! Don't you see? He's the one that ordered for all of these awful things to happen! He is the  _source_!" The femmes watched her silently, Susan the only one that looked to agree with her. The door slid open around the corner of the room, yet Eleaniris continued on her rampage, "He's like  _Darth Vader_  for crying out loud! How-"

A shadow engulfed her and a voice rumbled, "I'll gladly be your Anakin Skywalker," She wheeled around and almost lost her balance as she craned her neck to look up at Megatron's crimson, lustful rubies, "if you'll be my Padme." He purred and licked his lips suggestively at her, making her want to cower and hide.

Her jaw dropped. His response to Darth Vader was far too quick for him to reference the internet before answering, as she had seen many times before. There was usually a several-second pause to look something up, but he had not missed a  _single_  beat.

So he probably knew that he was dressing her like Jabba the Hutt did Leia Organa.  _Swell._

He plucked her up and sat her in the middle of his palm, holding his servo open but allowing the claws to curl over her only slightly. "Well?" He held her before his face and grinned, showcasing his monstrous denta and groping glossa. "Speechless, precious Queen?"

She was indeed as he left the room without acknowledging the other femmes. She thought she heard several squeals, like those of teenage girls at a boy band concert.  _Is there no one left on my side? Have they all fallen to Stockholm?_

"No." She crossed her arms and stared ahead in silent rebellion, leaving him to wonder what he had done wrong  _this_  time. She refused to fraternize with the enemy, especially one such as he, and commit a crime against humanity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seemed choppy, but I had a lot to fit in here.
> 
> Please review if you have the time to do so! Remember, I am open to constructive criticism.


	41. The Gatsby Maneuver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer
> 
> . I don't own Fitzgerald's novel The Great Gatsby, from which a quote is used here. I also don't own Pocahontas.

Megatron took her "no" as a "no" to her being speechless, not to her being his Padme.  _Adorable._ He chuckled and stroked her helm gently, turning to go outside. He had something to show her.

Eleaniris fumed,  _He just doesn't get it, does he?_

She huffed when he threw her up in the air and caught her in his cockpit. Eleanicon was growing larger by the day, Eleaniris had been depressed to notice. Every morning she would see it from the huge windows in Megatron's quarters, a line of buildings on the horizon, an ode to his conquest of this planet and the ones he wished to take in the future.

He flew over the land that would soon become the gardens, observing with contentment. He had initiated planning months ago for them, anticipating that his Queen would enjoy them when they were finished. Besides, she had to have  _something_  to do when he was out in space securing new systems to add to his Empire.

Current plans were for Eleanicon to grow around the palace and a garden would serve as a buffer between his -  _their_ \- home and the busy metropolis beyond. Additionally he had given some consideration to modifications of his palace, ones that might make it more forgiving to femmes of Eleaniris' size, and the gardens provided room for expansion if it was needed.

Eleaniris watched as he flew over the construction of a huge, twisting, metal wall, forming the barrier between his fortress and the city. She tried to avert her optics from the slaves without success, flinching when she saw one beaten to the ground. As he swerved between larger towers of glistening alien metal, presumably showing off, she glimpsed something standing between the immense buildings.

It was a gleaming statue of  _him_ , her captor and conqueror, sitting on a throne similar to the current one in his throne room. His legs were planted firmly on the base, spread slightly in a posture of overwhelming preeminence. One of his arms rested on an armrest and his helm was tilted back. What horrified her was what his other servo was holding.

A sphere, patterns and shapes carved onto the surface to make it recognizable as Earth, was pinched between two of his enormous fingers. He held it aloft over his wide open mouth, dentas bared and glossa outstretched, looking as if he was going to drop it in his maw like a grape.

She wanted to vomit at the display of his sickening power. Was nothing too much for him? He just kept shoving her face in her failure, and the worst part was that he pretended that he didn't know what he was doing to her. She was a President, a leader of a formerly powerful nation, and now she was a Queen.

A Slave Queen for the cruel Emperor that had invaded and enslaved her planet in less than a month. He executed her allies and enemies alike, throwing them in pits of fire, skinning them alive with his huge claws, grinding them to a pulp underneath his pedes, pulling off limbs one by one. She had watched him walk through New York on that first day like he already owned it, crushing fleeing humans indiscriminately and cracking the asphalt with his weight.

When she had tried to fight him with what she had thought was the strongest military in the world, she had witnessed him crumple armored tanks with a single fist, like they were made of paper. He would launch himself into the sky and tear jets down by their wings, throwing them straight through skyscrapers and killing the pilots. He laughed raucously at the destruction around him, laughed at the weak defense of those pathetic humans trying to keep him from their rich planet. She remembered those blazing red optics on the screens of the bunker briefing room, how they looked to peer into her very soul with malicious amusement.

She let her tears fall down her cheeks, covering her face with her servos and letting her shoulders quake with her silent sobs. She had looked briefly at the anatomy data pad he had given her, and what little she had seen about "pregnancy" scared her. How long would it be until he broke her? How long would it be until she "serviced" him like the good little Slave Queen she was? How long until he impregnated her with his young, forcing her to carry and care for his monstrous offspring? How long until he made them suckle from her breast, taking their nourishment from the leader he had routed, ravished, and then chained to his berth?

Megatron noticed her venting pattern change and he diverted his attention from his destination to the tiny Empress in his cockpit. "Precious? What is wrong?" He cooed sweetly at her, his voice low and still rasping. "Look at me." She didn't listen, completely ignoring him, and he decided that his latest present could wait until after he had found out what was so wrong.

He selected a flat rooftop and landed, clutching her in a servo. She refused to look at him, keeping her servos on her faceplates. "Little one," he cooed, trying to reassure, "What displeases you?"

"I hate you," she growled, straightening and trying to salvage whatever was left of her dignity and pride and aiming to act presidential.

"Hate is a strong word, my dear." Megatron murmured, taken aback. He held her before his faceplates, his optics soft with concern and affection.

"Not strong enough to describe the emotion I have for you." She stared at him defiantly, but her resolve was cracking. He could crush her right then for all she cared.  _Let me rest in peace and join my sister, family, and friends. Execute me like you were going to do months ago._

He snarled in rage, shoving her back against his chest and transforming to fly back to his palace. He was silent the rest of the way, and, unfortunately, did not kill her.

* * *

" _How_  is it that Grace accepts you?  _How_  did you achieve this?" Megatron was furious, nearly shaking with the strength of his anger. He was pacing, something the warlord never did, demonstrating his frustration with his unwilling Queen.

"I-I don't know, my liege. She just  _does_." It was rare for the unflappable Soundwave to stammer, but in the face of his master's fury the world would often turn upside down. He was glad Grace was out and safe in a different part of the palace.

"Why must she  _hate_  me so?" Megatron shook his helm, his servos flaring with sparks as he clenched them. Soundwave knew very well the reason for her odium after spending so much time with Grace, but voicing that explanation to Megatron was a death wish. His leader was known to terminate unlucky messengers who brought him news that displeased him.

"She just needs time to adjust. Grace has known me for longer than Eleaniris has known you, Megatron." He prayed that his words would come true with time.

"Is there a courtship ritual I have missed?" Megatron was still pacing, thinking and keeping his optics down. "Something essential?" He still did not understand what he had done wrong.

At a last-ditch effort to avoid a "Starscream beating" - as the Decepticons had come to call it - Soundwave did an internet search for ideas. He came across an interesting tale and a technique that  _might_ just work.

"A party, my liege." Soundwave suggested, fighting to stand tall when his master's furious optics turned to him.

"I have already given her one." Megatron dismissed the idea, finally stopping his pacing.

"One every Earth week, for as long as it takes to get her attention," Soundwave clarified.

"Tell me more." Megatron crossed his arms over his chest, regarding his temporary second with a guarded expression that Soundwave knew well. He proceeded carefully, like a soldier through a minefield.

"They are extravagant affairs, my liege. I have found a record on the humans' internet of one such method,"

" _There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his motor-boats slid the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers and garden-shears, repairing the ravages of the night before._ " Soundwave finished reciting his example and saw that his lord's expression had not changed at the recounting of the lavish, expensive courtship method.

Megatron stared at him for what felt like a vorn before responding, "Plan one." He moved towards the door but stopped and turned back.

"That had better be it," he growled, "I grow tired of waiting for her." Soundwave hoped, for Eleaniris' sake, that she give in quickly. Megatron, though patient, had his limits.

"Of course, my liege. She  _will_ be yours willingly." Megatron didn't reply and left Soundwave in his wrecked apartment. He sighed and set about cleaning up, not wanting his innocent little bird to see the destruction.

* * *

Eleaniris again took refuge in the library with Borealis and Wheelie. Many of the femmes were gone, working in the main space and serving their invaders, but Grace was there in the back room. She revealed that Megatron had not yet given another order for her and Susan since they had cleaned up the slaves, and she was spending her time in the library reading whatever Earth novels stored there. The woman-turned-femme set aside  _The Help_  -  _an odd choice_ , Eleaniris had thought - and helped to support her.

"I just don't know what to do anymore," Eleaniris sobbed, looking down at the table between her and the stylist. Wheelie looked up at her with sad red optics, listening. He saw her servos, clasped firmly in her lap, and with some hesitation reached to lay his servo over one of hers.  _The Supreme Commander will offline me for this._

She smiled at him weakly, her tears briefly subsiding. "Thank you," she whispered with all of her heart. He didn't reply but left his servo where it was, on hers.

"Have you tried talking to him again?" Grace tried to soothe, her pink optics shining with concern.

"It's no use. What am I going to do, sing  _Colors of the Wind_?" She laughed bitterly at the irony.

Grace lowered her optic ridges, "No, but maybe telling him what is wrong might help. Tell him that you can't stand seeing the human race treated this way."

"I have, and all he says is something along the lines of 'You are no longer one of them' and then forces me to sleep with him." Eleaniris deepened her voice in such a way the Grace would have laughed at the comic impersonation if the circumstances were not so serious. "He says that the human race…" Eleaniris grew quiet, "lives to serve."

Borealis chirped solemnly, her silky voice sounding in Eleaniris' head, ' _I'm sorry, mistress.'_

"There is nothing I can do," Eleaniris whispered and tears started flowing again, "Nothing."

Grace sighed, for the millionth time glad that she was not in such an unfortunate situation. "I remember that you told me to hold on."

Her helm rose to watch her stylist, "I remember a President that was so dead-set on winning and so dead-set on fighting for what she believed in that she wasn't going to stop. I remember a President that spat in the giant's eye," Wheelie shuddered at the memory of seeing her do that, "I remember a President that evaded the Decepticons for a year."

"To me," Grace said as reassuringly as she could, "You may not be seeing results now, but with time water erodes even the strongest rock."

That was deep. Eleaniris smiled, forcing herself to stop crying, even if it was just for Grace. Weeping would get her nowhere, but fighting just might get her somewhere.

* * *

"She hates him, 'Wave." Grace murmured, sitting in his lap while Soundwave laid out plans for a lavish party the following day. The stylist knew that she was lucky to have gotten his attentions in the first place, and smiled fondly at the memory of her going to Scalpel.

" _So that's how bonding works." Soundwave finished his explanation, chuckling at her wide optics._

" _That's…" She paused, "Not actually that different compared to human sex." She wouldn't know, though._

" _Grace, would you," Soundwave carefully got off his berth, where she sat, and knelt on the floor, "bond with me? If you had the chance to?" His optics were so soft and loving, his mandibles - for once - splayed so that they were not so intimidating._

" _I-I don't know, 'Wave." She was conflicted, remembering what Eleaniris had told her about the enslaved children. "I-"_

" _Shhhhh, sweetspark. I won't rush you." He picked her up and cradled her, "I will let you make your choice." He went to the door and left their apartment, and Ravage and Laserbeak, to go downstairs. "Would you mind being checked?"_

_She shook her head no, a little curious herself if she could carry sparklings. She was doubtful, given her previous condition as a human._

_Scalpel indicated for her to lie down, which she did, and he held a sort of scanning probe over her. She reluctantly retracted her interface panel upon request, smirking at Soundwave's warning growl as Doctor studied her. After a painstaking investigation, he finally reached a conclusion._

" _Zhe can carry," Scalpel said emotionlessly in his thick accent._

_She started to cry, which alerted Soundwave and made him move closer from his position off to the side. "What happened? Why are you leaking?" he said in a panic, scooping her up in his arms and using his tentacles to stroke away the coolant on her cheeks. He was so worried, and she cried harder._

" _Oh Soundwave," she said through her tears, "I thought that I couldn't carry. That's what the doctors said after the procedures and treatments." She brought herself up to hug him happily. "I had ovarian cancer, 'Wave. They said I'd never be able to have children because they took so many of my eggs."_

_She smiled and kissed him in her elation and joy. "Nothing is wrong Soundwave. I am so, so happy." He looked relieved and caressed her with his snake-like tentacles, making her feel so very loved and safe. He climbed back up to his quarters, nuzzling her affectionately and making her giggle._

_He laid her on his chassis to recharge that night, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and stroking her to sleep. "I love you, 'Wave."_

" _I love you too, sweetspark."_

She wondered if Eleaniris would ever feel that joy and safety. With Megatron, probably not.

"So he has told me." She gaped at him and he explained, "I spoke with him earlier about this." Megatron had refused to allow Soundwave to get his own subspace mass distributor a little over a week ago and had frequented their apartments up until the slaves outfits were redone two days ago. Then there was the Energon poisoning, which Grace was thankful did not affect Soundwave, and Megatron had sent out orders for the offenders to be killed. Poor Eleaniris had come to them as soon as it was found, looking for someone's support. It seemed that neither of them were happy but that both were upset for very different reasons.

"I'm glad that we aren't like them." She whispered, watching him idly.

"So am I," Soundwave said quietly, not sure if he was being watched, "so am I."

* * *

When she and Grace had parted ways, Eleaniris had gone back up to the apartment to read her own materials. The revisionist history was trash but she still had  _Animal Farm_ and the data pad on anatomy. She set down  _Animal Farm_ and fought the urge to bang her head against the wall. She thought that, if anything was correct in the history provided to her, that the Decepticon record would be the most truthful. And from the looks of the history and the parallels with  _Animal Farm_ …

"They're God-damn  _Bolsheviks_. I guess that makes Megatron Josef Stalin, huh?" Borealis cocked her helm at her. "Sure fits him. Communist dictator that kills his own people. He even has gulags and a Red Army." She laughed morbidly, "They do say that history repeats itself."

She shook her helm and was about to start reading again when the doors opened. She stiffened in her spot on the couch and waited, expecting Megatron to show his ugly mug again. It was afternoon, after all, and the usual time for him to "come home from work."

It was him, sure enough, in all his glory. He looked hesitant, though, and a little more wary.

"Precious, please." Megatron said lowly, dipping his helm. "Consider it." He kept his distance, which she was thankful for, and even said  _please._

"Consider what?" She eyed him suspiciously.

A few days later she was on his lap in the throne room again, trying to tolerate the excessive gluttony and consumption of the mechs present. The librarians had just finished performing and left the hall, Soundwave guarding them from groping mechs. She tried not to be annoyed with the extravagant performances and sheer wastefulness, since she would just cry her eyes - or  _optics_ \- out again, and instead focused on thinking up a new plague. It was difficult, given the loud music from the full human orchestra.

She spent a month like that at his weekly parties, finally realizing at one that he was trying to impress her Gatsby-style. She wondered if he knew that  _The Great Gatsby_ had ended with Gatsby dead.

The only remotely successful plague had killed several in a mine collapse, but nothing she was doing seemed to work. Nation messaged her a plan for an infiltration to use the communications room to call the Autobots, which was down the hallway outside the throne room, and she realized what needed to be done. It disgusted her but she knew she had no choice and wrote them back, saying she too had a plan.

Elsewhere Starscream had also received word of Megatron's elaborate festivities, as well as their regular schedule, and smirked gleefully. "Ready yourselves. We have a party to attend."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Eleaniris realizes that the Decepticons are a parallel for the Bolsheviks and that Megatron is Josef Stalin. It's just my history-buff self showing up in here, so you can ignore it if you want but a google search wouldn't hurt. Much.
> 
> By the way, a gulag is "part of a system of labor camps maintained in the former Soviet Union from 1930 to 1955 in which many people died." Thanks Google!
> 
> Please don't be intimidated to tell me what you think! I really, really appreciate it!


	42. The Fire Ignites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.  
> I don't own Who Framed Roger Rabbit or the character Jessica Rabbit or her version of the song Why Don't You Do Right? Also don't own Dutch from the Bay movies. Couple of curses in here (and not the Avada Kedavra type either) along with an innuendo or two.

`"Stop whistling the theme from  _Mission: Impossible_  Simmons." Wilson ordered, exasperated with the team he was given. "This is serious." He double-checked the front pocket of his black vest to be sure that the message was there.

"You don't have to tell  _me_  that." Simmons took his earpiece from Dutch.

Epps checked himself over, "Then who is he talking to?" He personally enjoyed getting in the egotistical former-agent's face every once in awhile, much like Lennox did. Amusement and good spirits were in short supply, since so many of the plagues had failed and Eleanor's requests for human liberation were going nowhere.

Burns chose that moment to enter the small room they were using for preparations, holding up his hands to tell them to stop. "Time is short, but I have come personally to wish you luck in this effort."

"This could be how we free the human race from servitude. Godspeed, men." Burns saluted them sharply, as would any former Marine, and all mirrored the gesture. Their busy leader left quickly, but not before Wilson caught the betraying glisten in the man's eyes. It took all of his control not to follow suit with his comrade's emotions.

Epps turned to Lennox, "Should we have a name? For the communications?"

Lennox looked to Wilson, as if asking what he thought. The Secret Service agent pursued his chapped lips in thought, yanking his hood over his head to shadow his scarred face, "Team Phoenix."

"For Eleanor." Phoenix had been the codename to refer to Eleanor over the radio. Not much of her plan was detailed in the last letter but it was just enough for the bodyguard to worry about what she was doing for them.

Lennox set a gloved hand on his shoulder apologetically, "I'm sorry that I couldn't take her with me.  _He_  was just too close." Wilson did not respond, knowing what the ranger was talking about. Megatron's name was a sort of taboo among the ranks of Nation, understandably.

Even more so was Eleaniris. It was a common belief that Megatron had "given" Eleanor that name upon transforming her and therefore it was a disgrace to the office of the President. Since Eleanor was still their President, at least in the eyes of most, Eleanor was her only valid name. In short there were three things that were called "the unmentionables" in Nation's circles: 1) Megatron's name 2) Eleanor's new name and 3) the intentions behind Megatron crowning her his Queen.

That last one was a particularly painful subject for Wilson. Losing her to the robots in Florida had been hurtful enough, but the Coronation was lemon juice on a third-degree burn. Above all, it was his  _job_  to protect her and he had failed in that endeavour. In an effort to soothe, Burns had said on multiple occasions that he had succeeded better than anyone could have thought they would on keeping her safe for so long.

It still hurt.

Simmons dismissing a teary-eyed Dutch called him from his thoughts. He brushed the soldier's hand off his shoulder and stepped away to the door. Epps, Lennox, and Simmons followed suit.

"Tell Megatron," Simmons said, putting on his sunglasses, "let's tango."

Even though the man was obnoxious, under his hood Wilson gave a little smirk as he walked into the morning light.

* * *

"That should do it."

Susan nodded her approval, casting her critical optics over the outfit Eleaniris had chosen to wear. Well, more like the outfit fate had  _forced_  her to choose to wear.

The front skirt was a deep, jam-purple and went down to her ankles. It was thin, sheer, and not very wide. The fabric left the tops of her smooth, silver thighs bare and managed to cover the area between them. A delicate, engraved golden plate held the skirt in place and attached over her lower belly while slim, braided strips encircled her hips to the complementary plate that suspended the rear skirt. The sides and fronts of her legs were uncovered and bare, especially more so when she moved. Her chest was covered in a matching metal brassiere, suspended by delicate chains that criss-crossed in an elegant pattern over her slim back.

Triple arm cuffs sat on her right arm, a golden band around her wrist, the middle of her forearm and the top of her forearm just underneath the elbow. Thin, fine chains connected the bracelets to each other at intervals, while matching anklets hung on her ankles. She left her daggers on the inside of her calves and hid her bow in its container on her left arm. She felt just a little more secure with her weapons available, even if she couldn't carry the quiver of arrows. Additionally she had seen the gleam in Megatron's optics at seeing her knives on her legs, unmistakably pleased with the sight of his warrior Queen.

Hopefully she would be as good of a distraction as the getup was designed to make her.

She had requested a week ago that she perform at the today's party, trying to seem as innocent as possible while hiding her true intentions. Megatron had accepted with a lustful look in his rubies that made her shiver, saying that he would pick out what she was to wear. She had smiled and asked for it to be a surprise - of course to add to the distraction factor that Nation needed - and with some arguing he consented, probably enthralled that she was appearing to start to give in. She sent a message to Nation, detailing that the plan was set.

Darkness was falling across the skies outside the windows of Megatron's washracks, orange slowly surrendering to dark blue. Susan had come up to help her prepare for the night while the rest of the femmes were already performing many floors below them. The palace was quiet, Susan had informed her, and it seemed that many of the guards were attending the party as well.

She had, after all, requested for most of the palace staff to be there.

Eleaniris tried to still her servos as she went downstairs with the help of Susan and Borealis, visibly nervous. She knew what she was going to be doing, and she was partly scared and partly disgusted. Disgusted because it was overwhelmingly sensual and objectifying, and fearful because of what might happen.

What if it didn't work and Nation's group was caught? What if it did succeed, but he got the wrong idea? What if he wanted to ravish her because he took it as her surrendering to him?

She decided that she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

She came to the doors and waited for the signal. A moment later Talia stuck her helm out and gestured for her to come in. Eleaniris followed her, the room pitch black, and with some trouble climbed up the stairs to stand in the middle of the stage that had been raised off the marble floor.

She braced herself to sing the song that had been discussed with the orchestra.

* * *

Starscream, in his jet mode, lead his small group across the skies to the shining palace of his enemy.

Thundercracker and Foulder trailed him, two of the few mechs that Starscream trusted to not reveal themselves in this stealth mission. He would have brought his other trinemate, Skywarp, if he was not such a simple minded fool. Instead he had left him in their base with orders for his third in command, Nimbose, to keep a close watch on the prankster. It wouldn't do to have his mission succeed and for his fortress to be compromised.

He went over the plan again, increasing his altitude to avoid being spotted. Recently it had been harder to move about, since it appeared that there were more bots with their optics turned skyward. Starscream presumed, knowing his former master, that they were either looking for him or for the Autobots. Thankfully they had not had much luck because of the small size of his current army but he hoped to be able to convince them to join their side. This was the time he had been waiting for, when he could finally take control of the Decepticon forces as Emperor Starscream and take over the universe.

But for that he needed an Empress and that little, delicate Eleaniris fit the role  _perfectly_.

* * *

 _Here goes nothing_ , Eleaniris thought and started to sing as sensuously and melodically as she could,

_You had plenty money 1922_

The spotlights came on, the low music started and the whistles of awe from the mechs around her joined for a dizzying experience. For such an occasion large tables had been brought out with seating for each of the officers present and high-grade Energon sat in strange, curving pitchers for consumption at each of the circular tables. All countless pairs of red optics were on her, including the ones of the being on the throne. She set her servos on her hips and let them sway as she walked forward with measured steps.

_You let other women make a fool of you,_

She kicked a little, shamelessly showing off a slim leg and receiving several groans of admiration.

_Why don't you do right,_

_like some other men do?_

She continued her strut down the walk of the slim stage, stopping to rather rudely kick off the edge a drone that was practically drooling over her.

_Get out of here,_

_Get me some money too._

With each step she tried to prance a little, pointing her toe downwards before setting it down. It made her legs look longer, she believed.

_Now if you had prepared 20 years ago,_

_You wouldn't be a-wandering now from door to door._

_Why don't you do right,_

Eleaniris reached the end of the walk and spun in a slow circle, keeping her servos perched on her hips to emphasize them. In her mind's eye she kept the clip of Jessica Rabbit performing the very same way and made believe that she was impersonating for fun and not to a hall of constantly catcalling alien robots. She wondered briefly if this was how the other femmes and human women felt when they performed like this.

Because it  _hurt_  to be objectified.

_like some other men do?_

She went down the stairs, back the way she had come, to the marble floor. It was almost over, and it was approaching time to make her move. The spotlight followed her, not allowing her to escape the attention of the mechs around her. She spotted Grace in the crowd, sitting on Soundwave's shoulder at the table closest to Megatron's throne. Talia was there as well, seated in front of Shockwave on the surface of the table. They gave her reassuring looks that made her a little stronger and steeled her nerves.  _They've done this many times. You can do it once._

_Get out of here,_

_get me some money too._

With a great amount of courage and a great amount of fear, she approached the dais through the crowd. It parted like the Red Sea, revealing Megatron's lustful, burning gaze to her. She looked for those conflicting feelings she almost always felt and to her surprise found none.

Well, that was premature. To her disappointment, besides feeling objectified, the tiniest part also felt…

Coveted? Special?  _Beautiful_?

All of those red eyes were filled with yearning yet also the knowledge that she was taken, was untouchable. Their Supreme Commander had longing in his optics but also that expression she could not decode no matter how  _hard_  she tried to place it. He leaned on the arm resting on the armrest, staring with undivided attention and watching every sensual sway of her hips as he sat forward.

_Why don't you do right,_

Megatron let down a servo for her, sensing what she wanted when she had reached the top stair. She stepped in and sat down daintily as he rose it to be level with his face. She stretched out a leg sensually, crossing it over her knee and not missing his growl, and something caught her optic in the doorway to the side. Internally he groaned at the exquisite femme in his grasp.  _I may not do right, my Queen, but I will certainly do_ _ **you**_ _._ She was such a pretty little thing.

_like some other men_

Lennox, Wilson, and Simmons stood there, with a black man she didn't know, openly gaping at her. She quickly averted her gaze so as not to draw Megatron's attention to them and render null her "show." His lips were close and she leaned in as the music reached its emotional swell.

_do?_

She breathed the last word, an inch between her lips and his, and slid away. There were several aroused groans from the audience and Megatron narrowed his optics at her before setting her down in his lap as the spotlight turned off and the lights came on. She chanced a glance at the door and saw they were gone, the metal clanging that was the Cybertronian equivalent of clapping absolutely deafening.

There. She had done her part. Now they just had to do theirs.

* * *

"She's good." Simmons said in awe and Wilson had to drag him from the door.

It hurt an awful lot to know that this man, for once, was right. Eleanor was executing her plan perfectly well, from the look on that metal behemoth's face. He wasn't sure if Eleanor had noticed, but even from his vantage point the red eyes declared as loudly as an air raid siren,

_Mine._

How detestable. How terribly  _sacrilegious_. He felt powerless and as a former Marine himself he didn't like that sensation. Wilson was always told that he could do anything given the right team of men though now that no longer seemed to hold true. His one charge was inside that room, sitting in that demon's hand under a possessive, dangerous stare.

From before the Invasion, he recalled a "meme." Something about "having  _one_  job." It was a morbid thought, yet it was also true. He was a  _failure_  of the highest caliber.

They marched through the hallway, scanning with their eyes and listening. All of the sound seemed to come from the throne room which left the halls empty and strangely quiet. Still they stuck to the shadows along the wall, following the map the messengers provided.

"We go in there." Wilson whispered and pointed to the pair of small, human-sized doors that permitted access to the maintenance hallways. Quickly they crossed the large hallway, keeping their footsteps as light as possible. They were unlocked, thankfully, and opened to permit entrance.

They went along, feeling a little more secure inside the dimly-lit corridor. After several hundred yards they came to the door labelled for the Communications' Room. As silently as could be Lennox opened it for Wilson to peek through. It seemed to be vacant and they proceeded with caution.

Wilson let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and pulled out the instructions to operate the panels.  _Thank the Lord for that Jasmine._ Epps took his agreed post watching the door while the other three men figured out how to utilize the controls.

Dutch was giving Simmons extra instructions as well, and quickly they had the main program opened. But then they saw all of the words written in alien characters and the help for them stopped there. The room was silent, the four men wondering if they had just wandered into a trap.

* * *

"I applaud you, my dear. An  _excellent_  job." She looked down at her lap, at her servos, and bit her lip.

"Thank you." Her meek whisper made him rumble in satisfaction.

The officers present had gone back to their drinks and a group of human belly dancers took the stage. Shockwave was setting Talia on his shoulder, his single optic focused on her alone as she spoke animatedly. Soundwave nuzzled Grace and murmured something that made her giggle.

Megatron raised his optics to this and barked angrily at them, " _Recall my orders."_

The two separated, Talia clambering down to move to the opposite side of the table from Shockwave and gave him a sympathetic glance. Grace followed her and sat beside her.  _Orders?_

He picked her up and held her level with his optics, revving his engine and purring, his glossa flicking out over her neck to coat it in slime.  _Shiza. He_ _ **did**_   _take it the wrong way._

She let her jaw drop in an open gape, "I-I need to change my outfit. If you don't mind." It was such a common occurrence, for him to "sample" her, that she didn't know why she found it so surprising anymore.

"Why?" He nuzzled her with his nose plate, opening his mouth to blow a warm vent over her belly. "I like you like this."  _Because I need a break, dammit._

He licked gently at her stomach, "But if you really want to redress, I  _suppose_  I could allow it,"

She smiled but then he revealed the catch " _If_  you try one of these." He gestured to the bowl of squirming, writhing Scraper Beetles on the arm of his throne. Her face contorted in an expression of disgust at the metallic bugs, remembering when he had tried to get her to eat one once before.

_She sat in his lap at one of the parties, trying to keep to herself while she sipped from her cube of high-grade Energon. It was one of the bottles of the case Blackout had given her on her coronation and she found that it was sweeter than the kind Megatron usually drank. If she had to draw comparisons, she would say that hers was more like wine while his was a type of hard liquor. Thankfully he never got drunk - or "overcharged" - on the occasions as some of his officers did, since the consequences could be deadly for her. She suspected that it was due to his cautious and wary nature, a fitting persona for a battle-hardened warrior and former gladiator._

_She jumped when he abruptly lowered a servo to her to show her something pinched between his claws. It was a wriggling bug, about the size of half her forearm, shaped like a cockroach. "Scraper Beetles, precious. A delicacy among our kind. Shockwave has bred several. Would you like to sample one?"_

" _I'll pass, thanks." The beetle was struggling, fighting for its life, and it bared sharp mandibles at her in a hiss. She leaned away, trying to avoid spilling her glass._

" _Are you sure?" She nodded without hesitation. He did something that resembled a shrug and popped it in his mouth. She shuddered at the sound of the metal of the bug being crunched, a little screech sounding from his mouth signaling its demise._

" _How can you even eat those? Do you have some sort of digestive system?" He smirked at her, swallowing._ So  _that's_  why he has denta.

" _You're just full of questions, aren't you?" His glossa swiped over his denta, gathering the taste of the unfortunate bug. "They contain nutrients that are not needed incredibly often but are still required."_

" _That statement is contradictory." He chuckled, selecting another beetle and throwing it in his mouth._

" _You're adorable."_

She let out a shuddering sigh. "Fine. But only if it isn't alive."

Megatron smirked and plucked one up, squeezing it and crumpling the metal to kill it. It screeched slightly and went still, and he held it to her. "There you are."

She picked it up hesitantly, taking a reluctant bite. The metal was oddly soft and malleable but still had a crunch to it. The inside of the bug was a pink, jelly-like substance that felt similar to jello, the taste rather saccharine. She took another chunk out without realizing, savoring the taste.

"What do you think?" Eleaniris saw the smirk on his face that told her he already knew that she liked it. He was happy to mark off another on his list of her instinctual desires; being able to provide sustenance, to both his mate and his sparklings.

She swallowed, "It's okay." Out of pride she handed him the rest of the bug, which he accepted and tossed into his mouth. If circumstances were different she might have actually finished it.

"This one tastes even better than the others," Megatron purred, observing her, "since you have added your own special tang to it." She shuddered at the sappiness that dripped off his words.

"May I change  _please_?" She asked, desperate to get away from his stifling comments.

"Very well. Do not deprive me of your presence for too long." He chuckled and set her down on the top stair, gesturing for Borealis to swoop down and take her. The happy pulse in her chest at his words was promptly cursed.

* * *

Starscream and his group broke apart, taking out different sentries that had been set up to watch the skies over the palace. The plan was to remove all threats to them being spotted before going up to the windows of Megatron's quarters to rescue his Empress. Securing her would show the rest of the Decepticons how weak their leader was and would convince them to join him in his coup.

He didn't think about how that might drive them  _away_  by showcasing his own stupidity. Anyone with any semblance of a processor knew not to touch the Queen or even so much as  _look_  at her the wrong way, for if they did they met the underside of Megatron's ped faster than a Turbofox on a date.

Starscream transformed and dropped behind the sentry, a single bolt through the processor terminating him before he knew what happened. A flare of pain in the sensors in his arm made his growl; he was no medic, and he could only reattach it so well since a) he was an outcast with little access to repair supplies and b) it was Megatron that had torn it off in the first place while protecting his then-pet.

Comming his small group to rejoin with him once they were done, Starscream stepped back from the body of the guard and raised his helm to the stars. His processor occupied itself with contemplation of what he would do to the seekerlet when he had her.  _Seekerlet, that is what I will call her,_ he thought smugly to himself.

* * *

Yanking open the doors of her large mahogany wardrobe - one of Megatron's latest gifts - Eleaniris was faced with a choice. She didn't get many of those anymore, and so she wanted to savor this one.

She chose a modest - as modest as Megatron would allow, anyway - turquoise skirt set and removed the armor she was wearing. Flipping over the plates, she unhooked the loops of the purple skirts from the tiny hooks on the inside of the metal and placed them back in the wardrobe. Hooking the small loops carefully over the small latches, she reattached her plating and smiled in the mirror. The skirt still left the sides of her legs bare, but both the front and back were wider to cover her a bit more conservatively.

" _On second thought,_  Megatron's comm. startled her as his deep voice rumbled in her head, " _I'd prefer that you didn't change at all. I like you just the way you are."_ Her heart leapt, and as much as she hated him…

That felt good. " _T-thank you,"_ she said back through the comm, astonished at how such an evil monster could be so damn  _tender_.

" _You didn't let me finish, my beauty._ " He chuckled, " _When you return and my officers have left, if I might..."_ he ended abruptly.

Megatron, in his throne room multiple floors below her, looked at Soundwave. His second nodded once in encouragement, and the warlord proceeded.

" _Have a dance? With you?"_

She snarled through the comm., not even bothering to stop to think about the sincerity in his tone or what she was saying, " _You_ _ **dare**_   _to mock human courtship in this way? Don't meddle with things that you don't understand, with things that are so bloody_ _ **sacred**_ _. Stop mocking me."_

That's it. She couldn't take it anymore. She ended the comm. link and whirled out of the antechamber of the washracks, running to a very confused Borealis but not before slinging her quiver of arrows over her back.

"I'm leaving, Borealis. Nothing he can do will stop me. I'm sick of this place." Eleaniris swung a leg over her back and sat down.

The gryphon, rather required to reply, tried to convince her mistress as best she could, ' _But why? This is your home.'_

' _This was never my home, Borealis. He has made one comment too many and I just can't_ _ **stand**_   _it anymore.'_ Eleaniris replied in her head. ' _Please try to understand.'_

Borealis was conflicted. She wanted to help her mistress, but she also couldn't take her away from her mate. Whether Eleaniris liked it or not, she was bound to Megatron, yet Megatron was also the one hurting her.

' _I…'_  It was the first time Eleaniris had ever heard that silky mental voice stutter. Usually it was calm, collected, and soothing but now it just sounded unsure. ' _I can't do it, mistress. I can't help you run away.'_

' _Please, Borealis! Please! You have seen my pain, can bear witness to it! Please help me!'_ Borealis chirped sadly and shook her head, prompting Eleaniris to dismount angrily.

"Fine. I will leave this prison on my own then." She went back out the doors, opened by the guards always stationed outside, not seeing Wheelie's wide red optics at having heard what Eleaniris had said.

After some minutes of internal debate, he shakily raised a servo to comm. his leader out of fearful loyalty, " _M-my liege, there is a problem."_

* * *

The human maintenance tunnels were what she used to go downstairs as quickly as possible. She just had to leave, with Nation, before Megatron knew what happened. She just couldn't do it anymore.

Eleaniris found the Communications' door on the lower levels, opening it to see the four men bickering on the center control panel. "Obviously that isn't the right button!" Simmons said, gesturing and getting in Lennox's face.

The African-American man spotted her and pointed her out, "Madame President? Is that you?"

She smiled, seeing her way out, and climbed to the top of the counter. "Yes. What seems to be the problem?"

"Their language - Cybertronian, was it? I don't know if you can help us with that, madame…?" Simmons said, glancing at Lennox out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, I can actually." She smiled mischievously, looking at the controls and keypad before them. "So we need only an interplanetary message, right?"

Wilson nodded, watching her and observing her demeanor. "Affirmative."

"Then let's try this one here," she selected the corresponding menus and tried various options to get to the audio recording screen. Smirking at her former bodyguard, "Hit it."

He read the message from the paper that Nation had agreed on, detailing the events leading up to their present situation and the hopelessness that proliferated on planet Earth. With some extra help from Simmons' assistant "Dutch", who was pleased and astonished that they had found their President, they set up the broadcast to be only interplanetary and move out across the solar systems. Hopefully that way none of the Decepticons on Earth would get the message, including Soundwave and Megatron. They were careful to delete the audio recording so that there would be no record of what had transpired.

Meanwhile, Epps was climbing around on the floor looking for vents or a crawlspace entrance. He had told them that they probably could not exit the same way they had entered and would have to go out the harder way. The slaves had warned them of the presence of cleaning drones in ventilation shafts, which had made it extremely dangerous to enter that way. Given that and the fact that the human maintenance tunnels had no access to the outside of the palace and went solely into the basement levels, meant that their only plausible course of entry had been through the hallway outside the throne room.

Now, however, since their message was sent and might be picked up if it was not done correctly, they had to take a leap of faith and go through the ventilation tunnels. Eleaniris was the second to go after Epps, since Lennox felt guilty for not taking her away from Megatron before when he had saved the children. Pleasantly surprised at their willingness to help her, she had started to get in when the floor quaked in a steady, strengthening rhythm like the beat of an execution drum.

* * *

Megatron almost crushed his glass at the comm. from his Queen's little drone. Not accustomed to receiving direct calls from those so low on the ranks, he growled, " _What?"_

" _S-she is trying to leave, Lord Megatron."_ Rage took over his spark, directed at his Queen for trying to run away from him and himself for somehow upsetting her.

And Soundwave, for misleading him in the methods of human courtship. But he would deal with that later.

" _How is she trying to get out?"_ He seethed, trying not to draw attention to himself. A few mechs dared to send him questioning looks, wondering what had upset their lord, and he snarled at them in response.

" _I-I don't know, my liege."_  The drone sounded truthful, and Megatron ended the comm. It was no longer of use to him. Instead, he commed the leader of his guard to deploy several to search for her starting from the floor of his quarters and moving downwards while another garrison would go upwards. He knew that she had returned to their quarters, hence why the drone had seen her, and since she couldn't fly she would be trying to go downstairs.

While he was plotting ways to punish her, Soundwave stood from the table at his right and got his attention. "My lord, I have received a ping that the Communications' Room was just used to broadcast a message. Were you aware of this?"

Megatron stood from his throne and gestured for Soundwave to follow him, going to the hallway. Eleaniris would pay for her actions later. He didn't know how, but she would pay.

* * *

The footsteps made her rush into the shaft as they got closer and closer rapidly. Wilson practically threw Lennox into the passage, insisting that he leave. The former Marine knew there was no time and quickly secured the grate over the shaft again, separating Simmons and himself from the three in the tunnel. "Go!" he ordered them, eyeing the doors. He hoped that the closed grate would throw the robots off the scent and think it was only two of them in the palace.

The red eyes that greeted him upon opening of the doors made him freeze, his blood growing cold in his veins. He had never before encountered the beings' leader, had only seen him on the screens at Nation during the propaganda broadcasts, and he found that the television did him no justice. Not even the glance at him in the throne room could have prepared him for the enormity of his President's alien suitor.

He towered over them, easily the height of a four-story building and probably the weight of one too. Dangerous claws glinted in the dim blue light cast by the screens, and sharp teeth grinned at them maliciously. Silver was the color of the giant's body, sharp edges around each of the plates and thick, strong thighs ending in tank treads supported him.  _Poor Eleanor had to deal with this monster?_ Remembering the small paper in his hand with the message, Wilson quickly shoved it in his mouth and swallowed.

In a move so fast it left no time for balks, Megatron scooped them up in a massive clawed hand. "Rebels, hmm? I have uses for you." The Emperor knew that he should not have called his guards out of their posts to spectate his Empress' performance; he had wanted his Queen to have a large audience and for as many as possible to see the beautiful thing that was  _his_. He would not make such a mistake again.

He turned to the much shorter robot standing at attention in the hallway. "Take these two to the brig. I have a Queen to find." Unceremoniously he dumped them into the other's considerably smaller hand and left down the hallway.  _Good. The hound is off the scent. Stay safe Eleanor._

Wilson prayed that Simmons could manage to keep his damned mouth shut as he watched Megatron's back turn a corner in the hall. Who knows how long they would be kept here, or if they would ever make it out alive. He was glad that this time, maybe the last time, he had done the job he had promised to do.

* * *

Finally together with his group, Starscream transformed and flew up to the level of Megatron's apartments. On any other evening he would have been gunned down by a dozen guards, but it seemed that all of the armaments had been dropped for an unknown reason. A part of him had wondered briefly if it was a trap, yet there was no ambush.

Since all of the windows were shatter resistant, reinforced glass, in addition to being mirrored, he had to count the number of floors upwards to where he remembered it being. Finding the correct level, he fired a few shots and cracked one of the panes. With a few kicks the panel gave way and he was standing in his former master's living space.

Borealis and Wheelie, having seen him coming, hurriedly dove underneath a couch and stayed there as silently as possible. They watched as the three seekers entered the room and began ransacking, all the while calling for their mistress in sing-song tones. Borealis hid Wheelie underneath her wing, something the drone was for the first time grateful for.

It wasn't long before Megatron burst into the room, his cannon mounted on his arm, followed by a legion of guards and Shockwave, whom he had called up when he heard the tremendous crash. The grey warlord, for once, hoped that Eleaniris was not in his quarters.

" _Where is she, you traitorous pitspawn?"_  Megatron bellowed, his denta bared in fury and assuming his offensive stance. Shockwave did not speak but simply levelled his hand cannon on Foulder.

" _Can't keep track of your Queen, my Lord?"_  Starscream sneered the designation sarcastically, the servo behind his back gesturing for his group to move back to the windows. " _Perhaps you do not deserve her! Good that you don't have her!"_  He could hardly believe that Eleaniris was gone, that the warlord had somehow lost her, but he thought it could play well into his servos.

Megatron roared with a strength that rattled the smaller pieces of shattered glass on the floor, his optics growing bright with his rage. He threw himself at his former second, unsubspacing one of his swords and moving to try to slice at the Seeker's back and wings. Starscream sidestepped at the last instant, his former leader glancing him. The other Seekers, under heavy fire from the canons that Shockwave and the guards wielded, jumped out the cracking windows and transformed to fly off.

Starscream screeched at Megatron, firing a shot that missed the former gladiator, " _Decide, Megatron. Do I have her, or do I not?"_  He was bluffing, of course, but a second's hesitation from the warlord was all he needed to maneuver to the window and fly out.

Megatron growled and ordered, " _Fire!"_  None of their shots found home and soon the Seekers disappeared into the night, far out of range.

He had opted not to pursue, deciding that there was no conceivable way that she could be with him. Unless, of course, her drone had lied to him. Searching the room with his optics and beckoning the guards out, he saw Borealis and Wheelie peek out from underneath the couch.

" _ **You**_ _. Come here."_  Megatron watched, admittedly pleased, as the indicated drone came forward, quivering and trembling in blind fear of him. He didn't bother crouching, rather liking the effect he had on the other, " _She left this room, yes?"_

He nodded, " _Y-y-yes."_

" _And_ _ **why**_   _did you not try to stop her?"_ Wheelie shifted, sensing that the end was nigh for him.

" _I-I c-couldn't, m-my liege. S-s-she was gone before I-I could m-move."_  He hoped that the tyrant would buy the lie and leave him alive. He had been too conflicted to even report her escape plans for nearly two breems after she left. Wheelie yelped when he was picked up and pinched between two huge claws.

" _That had better be the truth."_  Megatron held him before a blood-red optic that was easily his size, " _Primus have pity on you if it isn't."_  The warlord flicked his wrist and tossed him on the couch, " _Remember, you are alive to amuse my Queen and nothing more."_

Wheelie affirmed the truth of his master's words quickly and thanked him for his mercy. Megatron ignored him, looking back at the ruined windows. " _Send teams out immediately. I want them to start tracking Starscream."_  Shockwave, who had not exited with the guards, dipped his helm ever so slightly in respect and obedience. " _The rest of the guards are to scour the palace for any trace of my Queen."_

" _It will be done, Megatron."_

The tyrant was left alone in his apartments to try to comm. his unresponsive Queen. At least she was alive, since his calls were not being met with silence.  _What happened, precious? What did I do so wrong to upset you so?_

* * *

Eleaniris' helm shot up at the sound of gunfire. They were behind the palace and had, fortunately, not encountered any of the drones. It was a dark night, only a sliver of a claw visible of the moon.

Not sure who would be firing at who, Lennox and Epps and herself started to run through to the treeline. They made it and kept running through the pitch black, Eleaniris' vision a little better and she helped the humans not to stumble.

Only when she reached the Potomac River did she stop to look back at the gleaming metal peaks of the palace. Had she made a mistake in running away? Would  _he_  kill any of her friends for not stopping her? She bit her lip but knew that it was too late. He already knew that she was gone, so there was no turning back now.

" _Please, my dear Eleaniris, come back to me. Whatever upsets you will be made right, but only if you return to me. I care for you, Eleaniris. Please."_ He had commed that message to her over and over, his voice so deep and so seemingly honest. Her chest had wrenched painfully at the words each time, at the apparent sadness and longing in them, but she knew that if she returned things would only get worse.

Megatron growled when the mechs had finished their searches and came to him with empty servos. He didn't like the fact that she had even tried to run away from him in the first place, that something he had done had frightened her so much to do so. Or she was angry with him for making a "mockery of human courtship."  _How have I not made my intentions clear, precious?_   _This is no game._

He briefly considered using Shockwave's pet Driller to track her, since the beast was exemplary when it came to its olfactory sensors, but he didn't want it to accidentally kill her. It would be very easy for the tentacled worm to do so, given its large size and amount of appendages. The thing was more designed to kill and destroy than find and protect.

Like himself.

And he didn't want to hunt her like a common animal, either. He would hunt for her himself, as was his duty as her mate. He would find her no matter the cost, for she was his and his alone.

And Lord Megatron, Dark Emperor of Destruction, Supreme Commander of the Decepticons and one of the most feared beings in the universe would  _not_  be denied what belonged to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foulder is an OC of mine. He is a seeker whose designation means loud thunder. Nimbose is also an OC seeker. Dutch isn't an OC but is from the Dark of the Moon movie (and is just too fun of a character to not include in this). Simmons' "let's tango" line is from Dark of the Moon as well.
> 
> Longest chapter yet, folks! Hoped you liked it! If you did, don't be shy and drop a review!


	43. The Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

"One man, alone, betrayed by the country he loves." Simmons sat in the corner opposite Wilson, his back reclined against the metal wall and his knees vertical propping up his arms.

"I'm right here, Simmons." Wilson rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the cell door. They had not seen any other robots since the other one had locked them up several hours ago. First he was shocked that they were not simply dumped in some horrendous meat grinder and that they had a proper cell to be kept in. Second, he was surprised to see that he was not maimed.

He hoped Eleanor had made it out, along with Lennox and Epps. He had surmised that they had, since there seemed to be an air of urgency around them still. The robots scurried about beyond their line of sight, chattering in their strange tongue and sounding incredibly rushed. Their leader had yet to make another appearance and Wilson supposed that he was still looking for his "Queen," a good sign.

"One man, alone, betrayed by the country he loves." Simmons evidently had taken no note of his words. Considering that that might be how the man was keeping from shutting down, Wilson let him be. Personal mantras helped one keep focus from time to time, gave one something consistent in times of uncertainty. He had never before had the unlucky occurrence of being a prisoner of war, but he imagined that repetition of lines kept them sane.

They might work  _now_ , but what if their conqueror returned to interrogate them? Jasmine had mentioned something about having to clean up bodies that Megatron was done with, and it always seemed to involve an excessive amount of splattered bodily fluids. The chants might not hold up under such a strain, and one of them might crack. Additionally, Megatron now possessed  _two_  of them. He could very easily use the torture of one to get the other to speak and spill the metaphorical beans.

"Simmons." The other man looked up, his sunglasses gone, and stared at him with scared eyes. "Promise me that, if he uses me to try to get you to open up, you won't give him anything. If you do, everything we fought for and everyone that gave their lives for our cause will be of no matter. No matter how much I scream, now matter how many bones he breaks and blood he spills and limbs he pulls, tell him nothing."

Simmons, knowing who "he" was without a name being uttered, affirmed his oath with a heavy heart. Wilson took notice of the man's uncharacteristic seriousness and nodded with satisfaction. Soon Simmons asked the same of him and Wilson sealed their mutual pact of secrecy.

"Two men, alone, betrayed by the country they love." Simmons gave Wilson a dark, sad half smile at the agent's words that carried the weight of their spoken camaraderie.

* * *

Eleaniris was helping Lennox and Epps cross a stream in the dark of the night when it hit her.

Wilson and Simmons had quite possibly given up their lives for  _her_. For  _her._  She had even been in the tunnel when she heard Megatron's booming voice echo off the walls of the shaft, taking a tone he had never used with her in private. It reminded her about how much of a monster he really was and pulled her back to reality.

Her friend and protector was probably dead. Simmons, as annoying as he seemed to be, might have been an excellent confidant as well. Both of them should not have had to go through this. She should have pulled them in too and not just left them behind at the sound of Megatron's voice.

She had been a coward. She had abandoned those that cared for her the most to the barbarian that would rip them apart as she had seen him do countless others. Eleaniris shuddered at the memory of her loyal ally and friend Momolu Okafor being bent backwards until his spine snapped and ripped through his abdomen. The South African President was one of the last to be caught, and Megatron's glee at his demise made her face darken with hatred.

It was memories like those that she had to keep. Memories like those would keep her motivated to stay out of his grasp. The sound of a jet overhead made them press themselves against the nearest tree, Eleaniris shuttering her optics and trying to stay in the shadow.

Megatron had given up on comming her long ago and the presence of search parties was steadily getting heavier. She didn't want to think about what might happen if he caught her, especially with Lennox and Epps. In all likelihood he would put two and two together and see that  _she_  was the rebel leader that he wanted dead after all of those stupid plagues; that his nemesis was under his nose the whole time, and he hadn't even realized it.

The jets had faded and they were once again on the move. Lennox directed her toward an old, weather-beaten shack and to the horses within. He said that she should take the largest, a tall Quarter stallion, and the most likely to support her weight. The reminder of her Cyberformation still stung and she agreed solemnly.

Lennox didn't tell her that it had been Wilson's mount. Even if she was being quiet and showing no sign of emotion, grief left an unmistakable trace in the air. He didn't want to upset her more as she swung up onto the steed with the obvious grace of a practiced motion.

Nation awaited the news of the mission and they could not use radios with so many nearby, so they had to ride to headquarters. Epps and himself mounted their own horses and listened to the skies once more. Hearing no indications of the presence of their invaders, the group trotted their horses out into the night and south to Fredericksburg.

* * *

The five femmes were seated at one of the tables in the throne room, which had been suddenly abandoned a few hours ago. They had seen very little of anyone and those they had spotted remained in the hallway and looked as if they were going somewhere. Fast. The belly dancers that had been performing were sitting on the stage, whispering in hushed tones.

Talia broke the hour-long silence, "What happened? Does anyone know?" She turned to Grace, "What about Soundwave? Does he know?"

"He's not responding to my comms." Grace's lips were pressed together almost unnoticeably, her mouth taut just slightly. It was a telltale sign that she was worried about Soundwave, which she was, since it was extremely unusual for him not to answer her. He would usually comm. her back within several minutes if he had not been able to answer and if he was working on a datapad he always spoke to her.

Perhaps she shouldn't feel this way, on account of him being a hostile invader, but her mind would always come back to point out that he was a soldier. He did not choose what happened and where it happened, he simply followed the orders given like any loyal warrior would. Once he had revealed that Megatron was a champion gladiator in their homeworld and that he had also fought in the arena. That was how he had secured his rank, being one of Megatron's closest associates and taking an oath of allegiance early in the formation of the Decepticons.

This news made her a little more careful around him; she guarded her revolutionary status with all the extreme mindfulness of the keeper of a King's tomb. So far he didn't seem to have caught on to anything, but how long could she walk the line? How long could she have a foot on both sides of the fence between human and Decepticon?

"Shockwave isn't listening to me either." Talia looked hopefully at Kimora.

"Bonecrusher didn't come to this one. Megatron cycles through a list of who is invited, remember?" Kimora looked a little sad at this.  _Maybe he'll come to the library later._

None of their suitors were listening, it appeared. Sophia nearly slapped her forehead, "What about Eleaniris? Has anyone tried her? She's been gone for some time, and there was shooting..."

"I'll try," Grace offered, her pink optics shining with a worried light.

" _Eleaniris? What's happening?"_ She started, nearly spooking her dapple grey steed, and Lennox watched her with concern. Did she answer? Did she just let it go? What if Megatron was listening and could track her if she responded?

" _Megatron had better not be there."_ Eleaniris commed back. Her voice was tinged with animosity and distrust.

Grace took no offence to her friend's tone, attributing her wariness to the severity of what she didn't know. " _I promise that he's not."_ The other femmes looked sympathetic, inferring what Grace was talking about. They rightfully didn't understand why Megatron didn't have Eleaniris' affection, and Grace wasn't sure she did either.

All of them were so happy, with the exception of stubborn Susan, why couldn't Eleaniris join them? It was so wonderful to cuddle with their much larger alien sweethearts, and Megatron's voice  _alone_  would have any femme swooning. What was it about him that she  _hated_  so much? Why hadn't she cracked like the rest of them had, accepted her fate like the majority of humanity had? What exactly kept her standing so tall and rigid against his offerings of luxury and a life free of worry?

" _You promise?"_ Lennox raised an eyebrow, wondering who she was speaking to. The comm. was in English and he could hear every word she was saying. He knew it wasn't Megatron but who  _else_  could it be?

Grace double-checked their surroundings, making sure that he hadn't come in. " _I promise."_

" _What happened? Where are you?"_

There were several seconds of waiting before a hesitant voice replied, " _I couldn't take it anymore. He keeps trying to break me and every time it gets worse."_ She paused and continued, " _He wants me as a concubine. I know it."_ Eleaniris opted not to mention Wilson and Simmons; Grace could do nothing but worry over them.

Grace tried to keep her sigh from being audible over the comm.. Eleaniris didn't see, did she? Soundwave had asked her for ideas on more than one occasion to give to Megatron regarding what she might like. Could she not understand that a sex slave would receive none of these things?

" _I don't think that's true, Eleaniris. Where are you?"_

" _It_ _ **is**_   _true. It's not as if he actually_ _ **loves**_   _me, the former leader of this world's superpower. And I can't tell you where I am, but I'm going away."_ She was so bitter and sour, worse than an unripe grape. " _I hope he doesn't hurt you, and I'm sorry that I had to leave without saying goodbye."_

" _Can I speak with you later? To make sure you're okay?"_ Grace decided to let go the comment about Megatron not loving her - that was something Eleaniris would have to come to terms with herself.

" _If you'll use a code phrase to prove that Megatron isn't there."_ Now Lennox and Epps were both watching her with extreme interest. She gave them a little nod to acknowledge their presence but kept her focus on Grace. " _What if he forces you to comm. me?"_

" _That's a good point."_ Grace knew a compromise might help keep Eleaniris grounded, in a sense, and to show that she had support. " _Do you have an idea?"_

There was silence over the connection before Eleaniris spoke " _Yes. I will ask how you are doing. If he is there, say 'I am fine.' If it is safe for me to be open, say 'I am well.'"_

Lennox was gesturing for her to cut it off and Eleaniris followed his request, " _Don't let him have any indication that we have spoken. Eleaniris out."_

The comm. clicked off before Grace could even attempt to reply, the silence sounding incredibly loud.

"She's gone. She left." Grace was caught between being happy for the kind woman and feeling sad that she had been so upset that she wanted to escape. Again, she reminded herself that she was lucky to have Soundwave; poor Eleaniris, she had the monster that ordered mass genocide and had cut down her military like nothing.

Susan dipped her head to indicate the belly dancers and the others nodded in agreement at the unspoken proposition. Spending some time with others might be beneficial, especially since the humans looked nervous at the emptiness of the room. Based on Susan's experience with her former coworker, Grace looked as if she needed some time alone.

They clambered down from the table with some effort and made their way over to the stage. The dancers stopped chattering and stared at them apprehensively, not moving as the femmes sat down beside them. Grace remained on the table, thinking, trying to understand Eleaniris' perspective and steadily becoming angrier with each realization.

* * *

" _Go!"_  He heard his sharp Cybertronian syllable bounce off the walls of the large, dark room. The subordinate bearing new orders scurried out of the Decepticon Command and away from the seething Lord Megatron.

He had been in an edgy mood since the night before when his Queen had decided to run away from him. There were so many things to be angry with that the list seemed to be limitless; the fact that she had left, that  _he_  had scared or infuriated her, that his guards had been unable to stop her because he had ordered them to stand down from their posts, that Starscream had escaped and destroyed his apartments…

That  _none_  of Soundwave's suggestions had worked in the past several Earth months.

For now he was forced to control his temper and divert his processor to the plans for her capture. Perhaps he would, while he was out looking himself, take his fury out on the wilderness and abandoned human cities.

Two officers stood on either of side of him, studying the holographic map of the surrounding areas. Across the rectangular display was Shockwave, whom Megatron knew he could trust to head this search. " _It will only be so long before she runs out of Energon,"_  Shockwave stated monotonously in perfect Cybertronian, " _A week and 2 days at the most, since she is running constantly."_

He hoped that she didn't run out so as to deactivate. Surely she didn't want to die on purpose? Would she come back before then, half-starved and limping? " _I want her back before this happens."_ He paused, " _Tell the Energon facilities to watch their supplies closely and that she is not to be harmed if she is spotted."_

" _Anyone that disobeys this order, knowingly or not, will be terminated immediately."_ Eyeing each of the two officers taking notes on datapads, he continued " _She can not have gotten very far and the wooded areas are to be checked first."_

" _Aerial squadrons are to check these sectors,"_ He tapped on parts of the blue display to turn them red, " _Before the morning comes. Their geography makes it easier for a grounder to travel faster."_

" _These parts, to the south,"_ he selected more blue squares, this time making them orange, " _are harder to traverse but are easier to hide in. Several more squadrons will take this area."_

The two officers nodded respectfully, pressing buttons on the surface of the table to transfer the diagrams to their own datapads. " _Travel to the east is unlikely, given that the large body of water would serve as a blockade. This is to be searched as a last course of action."_

" _The immediate land to the west does not provide resources presently of use to her. She knows this and will not go this way."_ Megatron studied the two jets impassively, yet his voice carried dangerous undertones, " _Failure to recapture her before she runs out of Energon will not be tolerated. I believe I do not have to explicitly state the repercussions, yes?"_

The two collected their datapads and affirmed with a salute.

" _You are dismissed. Take your crews out immediately."_ The mechs reached the doors and Megatron added, " _Those that find her will be rewarded."_

" _All hail Megatron!"_  They praised and left with a tangible increase in speed. They hoped for their own mates, no doubt.

" _Respectfully, Megatron, what is to be done with her when she is caught?"_ Shockwave's single optics bored into him with mild interest but strong indifference.

" _That will be decided when she is returned."_ He wasn't about to let her walk this one off; he had given her a reprieve when she had escaped the first time, and that had gotten him nowhere. Perhaps the loss of a privilege or two would work, but not enough to the point of shattering her spirit.

Physical discipline was out of the question. He didn't want her to fear his touch, to cower from him. His processor showed him a terrifying, spark-wrenching image.

She laid on the floor, a servo held up to try to beg him to stop. Her belly was large with an unborn sparkling and his other young ones were hiding beneath the couch, watching him with scared optics of white and red. He towered over their small, defenceless Carrier with a servo raised to backhand her tiny frame.

No. He would not be known as a mech that beat his mate, a helpless femme almost ten times smaller than himself. There were other methods of punishment.

After all, he didn't want her to break; he wanted her to  _bend_.

" _Start searching yourself. Report back to me your findings when the sun has risen, and also reflect on what to do with the human younglings."_

When the doors had closed Megatron was left alone in the room. It was not often that Decepticon Command was empty, hardly ever, yet he had ordered everyone out to either look for his Eleaniris or for Starscream. The latter was gone and inspection of the royal suits showed that he had been looking for something, but had not found it. His office was untouched and so was his weapons room. Nothing was taken, and the warlord knew that his former second had been searching for his Queen.

The slagger.

He commed each of the team leaders to set up a shift schedule so that there was always a squadron out looking for her. Allowing her to fall into Starscream's filthy servos would not do. Additionally, the rebel groups were still quite active. What might they do to her if they found her? Humans were of course no threat to  _him,_  armed or unarmed. But Eleaniris was still the size of a human, and if they located her first they just might kill or severely damage his sparkmate given the right weapons.

Speaking of rebels, he had a few that he wanted to interrogate. He ordered for Soundwave to bring in the femmes, the friends of his precious Eleaniris, to watch. Megatron wanted them to understand that he was not a mech to be trifled with and any further escape attempts would not be tolerated. A healthy reminder of what he could do to them would not hurt.

Much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, dull development chapter. Next will be a little better, I promise. Also, I did not write the "one man" quote that Simmons says; that's from Revenge of the Fallen, I believe.
> 
> Please shoot me a review!


	44. The Signal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

"Come, Grace, we must go." Grace looked up from her spot on the table, reflecting about Eleaniris, to see Soundwave offering a servo for her. Something was off about his aura, similar to when he had had to give her to Megatron to serve as then-Eleanor's servant. He wasn't as relaxed as he usually was and he seemed more taut than normal, like a rubber band being stretched.

"Where are we going?" She stood up and stepped into his palm, which he raised to set her on his shoulder.

"I can't tell you." He went to the stage to collect the other femmes.  _Something is wrong._

Grace almost asked why but then thought better of it; there were many things that Soundwave had to keep secret from her and this was probably just one of those pieces of information. He was a soldier, after all, and the Communications' Officer and Second in Command at that. He stooped to speak to the femmes and did not offer them a servo, as Grace had noticed was the social norm among the Decepticons.

Mechs did not touch the mates of other mechs. It just wasn't done. Decepticons, she had observed, were incredibly possessive and domineering creatures. More than once she had awoken to found Soundwave on his side, pressing her against his abdomen with his tentacles and curled around her like a proprietorial animal. Though he gave her choices, underneath the mirage of freedom was always an underlying wish on his part. It was as if he was planning a party and she had only been given a choice in the color of balloons. In the grand scheme of things, none of her opinions mattered.

What little she had seen of the others' interactions with the invaders said that this was the way for them as well.

They followed Soundwave and her out the doors, trotting after him to keep up with his pace. They were whispering amongst themselves, probably about where they were headed.

Grace just hoped that it was something good and that Soundwave was worried about her being pleased.

* * *

Wilson woke Simmons when he heard a Decepticon walking down the hall outside their cage. They had been taking shifts, one watching the door and letting the other get what fitful sleep they could. He wasn't sure how long it had been since they were caught but he suspected that it was somewhere near morning now.

Wonderful.

The door opened, spilling harsh blue light into the room and both of the men tensed their muscles, adrenaline coursing through their veins with every pump of their thumping hearts. Three of the relatively human-sized drones - they were still several feet taller than them - stood there, red optics glinting malevolently in contrast with the cool alien light of the cell block.

"Slaves, stand in the presence of your superiors." Wilson gritted his teeth but obeyed the order of the one in the center. Seeing that Simmons was having trouble regaining his senses, the Secret Service agent yanked him up before one of the robots could. Their claws probably would have sliced his arm open if they had.

"Follow. Supreme Commander Megatron wishes to…" the one who had spoken before paused, his face splitting in a wicked grin, " _speak_ with you." Somehow, through his dazed and terrified brain, Simmons knew that speaking would not be  _all_ that was done to them.

There was not another spoken word as he turned abruptly and walked away, leaving his two slightly smaller companions to flank the two captive humans. They made no move to touch them; Wilson suspected that the vast majority of the Decepticons thought the human race vile and filthy, akin to bacteria.

He wondered if they knew that their so-called "Queen" was a human. If he was somewhere else, he probably would have smirked at the comedic expressions of shock they would wear.

They were marched through human-sized maintenance hallways, all nondescript except for white numbers painted on the walls labelling different intersections. They passed several cleaning slaves on the way to their unknown destination, and with mild surprise Wilson noticed how neat they all looked. Each was wearing a spotless uniform of black and purple, the latter color making up only the apron that the men and women alike wore. They still looked underfed, their faces bony with the tell-tale signs of insufficient food, but their hair and skin was clean.

Simmons seemed to finally regain his ability to walk and finally stopped leaning on Wilson. He did not step too far away from the agent and stayed close enough that they would brush shoulders every once in awhile.

They stopped so suddenly that Wilson and Simmons almost ran into the sentry ahead of them, since he had only been a few steps in front of them. "Have fun,  _human filth._ Hopefully our leader will, at least."

The drone pushed them through the doors, almost singing, "He so  _loves_  seeing you bleed. So pathetic and weak, you insects are."  _You don't need to remind me._

The doors clanged shut, cutting off the mocking laugh of the Decepticons. They appeared to be in a medical room of some sort, with the long, high metal tables arranged in rows and countertops that bore the weight of cabinets and unknown devices. The room was lit in the same hideous fluorescent blue that the rest of the palace seemed to be.

"There you are," a familiar voice boomed, even though Wilson was sure it was supposed to be a low intonation. Regardless, the hostility and malign amusement characteristic of the enormous Megatron was still present.

A clawed hand scooped them up, Wilson just barely managing to avoid being cut up by the sharp talons. With a start he remembered how healthy Eleanor had been when he had come to try to rescue her before her transformation. Not a single mark had marred the skin that covered a well-fed, healthy body. He had thought that he had even seen a trace or two of some body fat on her muscled frame.

_He must have been incredibly careful with her, maybe even gentle._

They were thrown on a table and Wilson was sure he now had a bruise that covered his whole left side.  _Yes, he would have had to be._

Grace tried to peek over the edge of Soundwave's other servo, wanting to know what was happening since she had heard a human's groan. " _Watch,_ femmes, and witness what happens to those that disobey my rule." Megatron gave a pointed, warning look at Soundwave. Reluctantly the other robot lowered his servos to place her on the medical berth, allowing his sweet little bird to see what his Master was capable of.

Soundwave was still, at spark, a Decepticon. He thrived on torture and making others scream, blossomed when he was watered with blood. He believed in the rule of the strong, that the weak had no place in this universe; especially a universe ruled by the mighty Emperor of Destruction, Megatron himself.

Despite all of these beliefs, despite all of his vorns of bloodlust, he didn't want little Grace to be like him. He desired that his sparklings have a caring Carrier, someone with a soft touch and a kind spark. From that foundation they would grow to make fine warriors for the Decepticon cause. Yet, by seeing these horrible things, would Grace distrust him? Would she still want his touch or would she regress to the first few months he had had her, flinching when he stroked her?

Would she become Eleaniris and he Megatron?

He only hoped that he would be able to comfort her afterwards. His Master was not a mech to be denied. Whatever Megatron desired was done, for he was the most feared Commander in the universe.

Meanwhile, Grace fixated her optics on one of the men. He seemed oddly familiar, like she had seen him somewhere before. Erasing the horrendous, relatively new scars from his face and the stubble from his chin, making his hair a little shorter and looking behind the grime, Grace finally saw him for who he was.

"Ben!" She cried out with worry and fear, stumbling towards the wincing man before she fully comprehended what she had just done.

A massive, clawed, silver servo slammed to the table between her and the former bodyguard, throwing her to the surface with the force of the aftershock. Megatron's optics grew bright and narrowed with rage.

"You recognize this rebel, femme?" She froze, pink optics widening.  _He knows that the only way I could know him is from Nation._

Eleaniris' suitor lowered until his helm was before her, a hot ex-vent billowing over her and making her shiver. Red optics studied her, flicking over her body with hate and cruel bemusement.

"So you are one of them, hmm?" Megatron growled, baring fangs that could rip her like tissue paper, even if her body was metallic. The other femmes gaped at her, huddled together where Soundwave had placed them on the table earlier. He had still held her until he had been ordered to put her down, probably ashamed of what was about to occur.

She found her voice, stuttering out, "W-we, Susan and him and I, worked for Eleaniris, sir." Wishing that she had Eleaniris' strength to speak without trepidation in the presence of this mountain of metal, she continued, "When she was still a President."  _She still is._

Megatron inspected her, scouring for any evidence that she was not telling the truth. She stayed stock still and concentrated on slowing her venting, keeping her gaze down respectfully. Everyone knew that only Eleaniris could look him in the optic in such a defiant manner and be spared from his wrath.

"What was your occupation, fleshling?" His optics left her and she relaxed instantly in the absence of their penetrating stare. How Eleaniris could not falter underneath the scrutiny of those foreboding crimson rubies was beyond her level of comprehension. The servo between them retracted, allowing Grace and the other femmes to see Ben Wilson.

Wilson didn't respond. Grace had a feeling that she knew why.

" _Again_ ," Megatron gnashed his denta, " _What_ was your  _ **occupation**_ _?_ "

Did she answer for him? What would Megatron do if he knew the answer? Would he still kill him? The other man that had been brought in had moved away some from the spectacle and was observing with large, fearful eyes. Their gazes locked for a single, long second.

Wilson still didn't answer, and Megatron was seething. He went to grab the other rebel, the tips of his claws gleaming as the stretched for the other.

"He was a bodyguard!" Grace shouted, relieved when she saw the talons halt their approach and hover.

Megatron raised an optic ridge and his optics went from her to Wilson and back to her again. "A bodyguard? How  _interesting_." The servo that had been reaching for the man dropped and he hardly escaped being crushed. Grace didn't like that his optics changed from malevolent to dangerously intrigued, like a villain looking over a new weapon.

"Is this true, Soundwave?" The Mercedes stepped forward and scanned the human, looking for matches on the internet that Grace knew he had access to.

"Designation: Ben Raymond Wilson. Occupation: Head Agent of Secret Service for President Eleanor Sherman." Ben closed his eyes and turned his head to the side in despair. "Reported dead in Orlando, Florida."

"Ahhh." Megatron looked him over as if he was regarding a jigsaw puzzle. "So you were one of the humans that guarded my dear Eleaniris, hmmm? Curious that you escaped death at the servos of Starscream."

Wilson, seeing no choice, nodded almost imperceptibly. He hadn't missed Megatron's implied threat to Simmons. If he denied him information that he could find anyway, Simmons' death would be in vain.

The Emperor chuckled darkly, raising his helm slightly. "I might have use for you, fleshling, for when my Queen is returned to me." His hand picked him up by the back of his vest and held him before his face, contemplating him. "She needs someone to keep an optic on her. Your salvation lies in your usefulness."

"Because of your fine job keeping my Queen safe, I will overlook your rebel activity." Wilson was set - with a tad more gentleness - on a medical berth behind Megatron where he would not be in the way. "For now."

"You," Megatron snarled, turning back to the lone rebel on the berth, " **You**  I need to interrogate."

Simmons started to stutter under the red stare of the alien he had kept frozen for his time at Sector Seven. He had regarded the "Ice Man" with something akin to disrespect on multiple occasions and he regretted that now. It was admittedly eerie to see the formerly petrified metal man hovering over him, the roles of prisoner and jailer reversed. It was like seeing a prehistoric exhibit come to life.  _How did we keep such a thing locked up for so long?_

"I-I also served President Sherman." Megatron smirked with doubt.

"Soundwave, is this true?" His optics never moved from the helpless human below him.

"Negative." The three syllables sounded like a death knoll to Simmons, who tried to shrink back into the metal underneath him. "Occupation: Sector Seven Field Agent."

Simmons gulped.

"Sector Seven?" Megatron's hateful glare told Simmons that he knew. A flash of claws and two tong-like appendages were holding his arms, pinning them to his sides while the rest of the hand was splayed over him. He hardly heard Megatron over the sound of his own beating heart.

"It feels good to grab your flesh!" He snarled, his hot breath washing over Simmons in an unpleasant way. "I'm going to  _kill_  you, slowly, painfully, but first we have some  _delicate_ work to do." Megatron clashed the empty talons on his other hand, sending sparks down in a sad rain over the former agent while grinning at him maliciously.

Grace looked at Susan and the other femmes, not knowing what she could do. She felt powerless, helpless, disgusted with Megatron's power.

In that moment, it clicked. Eleaniris' hate made  _real_ , tangible sense. Before Grace had  _known_ , but now she  _ **understood**_.  _How could I not have seen, Eleaniris? How could I not have understood?_

Over the past month or so, frustrated with the lack of progress being made with the rebels he had captured and killed out of sheer annoyance, Megatron had ordered that Scalpel and Shockwave also look over possible methods of accessing memory in the human brain.

Scalpel had developed a probe that would run through memory stored in the brain, since human memories were not in any particular order -  _so_   _primitive_  - and it might take many tries to see what he required. Regardless, Megatron called "Doctor, examine this  _alien specimen_."

How ironic. The alien specimen was calling  _him_  an alien specimen.  _Alien is relative_ , Simmons supposed.

A spindly, insect-like alien with antennae jumped onto his abdomen and his sharp legs pricked his vest. "I'll zcan you. Let's take a look at your faze." Lenses dropped in front of the large, inquisitive red eyes and he crept closer to his face. He tried to fight against the restraints, but it was no use.  _That poor, poor woman._

"I'm ze doctor. Ze odd job. Information!" the tongs grazed his face, making his head turn to the side.

While Simmons' nostrils and mouth were being inspected, something like a metallic worm was dropped on his stomach. "What does he want?" Simmons spoke around Scalpel's metal tongs.

"Well, you have something on your mind, something I  _need_." The metal giant almost sounded normal, but his rough voice had a dangerous  _smoothness_  to it. The hand above him groaned with every move of the warlord.

The worm slithered up to his face, and he realized what was going to happen. He tried to clamp his jaws shut but the insidious Doctor was standing behind his head, two legs braced against his bottom teeth to keep his mouth open. His eyes moved to the woman that had saved Wilson, begging for some form of assistance from the unknown fate before him.

She just stared back at him, her pink optics wide with helplessness.  _I get it, Eleaniris. I get it,_ she thought with remorse,  _I understand why you ran away._

The probe was about to slink into his mouth when the large being pinning him stiffened, his head jerking up to stare at one of the plain metal walls. A grin slowly split his face and he ordered Scalpel and the worm to leave him be.

A notification had popped up on his display, outlined in red to detail importance.  _There you are._

* * *

It was almost morning and after hours of galloping they had finally made it to the outskirts of Fredericksburg, to the place where Nation was headquartered in the former United States.

After hiding the horses in the makeshift stables, and themselves a few times at the sound of jets overhead, Eleaniris was led to the hidden basement doors of the inside of a neighborhood grocery store. She looked at her servos, grasping the cloak that they had given her from the packs of one of the horses.

"You should put that on." Lennox indicated the black, thick fabric, "I don't know how they will react to seeing you here." Eleaniris agreed wordlessly, unfolding the cloak and pulling it closed around her. She removed the crown with some fingering for the latches and subspaced it. She didn't know why she kept it, since it was a symbol of her role as Megatron's Slave Queen, but she did.

Epps and Lennox looked surprised at the disappearance, but nothing was asked of it. They stepped to the doors in the loading docks, and Epps reached a door first to hold it open for her. Two guards there, in the stairway beyond, jumped and peered at them.

"Is that you, Simmons? It's not funny." One of the men laughed and indicated her, hinting at some past pranks the man had played.

"No," Eleaniris spoke, suddenly aware of how human-like her voice still was, "It's not."

The two suddenly stood at attention, recognizing the President's voice. "Madame President?"

"Yes?" Eleaniris responded from underneath the cowl that shadowed her face. She wanted to smile at the awe and surprise in their voices, their expressed joy and elation. It was wonderful to be back with her own kind.

"Come this way, please." The two guards gestured, and Eleaniris stepped forward to go first down the stairs. "It is an honor, madame, but it is not safe to stay above ground."

The bottom opened up into a large room, probably the cafeteria from the looks of it. Groups of people sat around mismatched tables and looked up at her entrance only to resume eating. It hurt that she had to hide from her people behind a hood but it was for the best. She had no way of knowing how some would react; it could be with hate for her perceived betrayal, it could also be with sympathy for her captivity.

Regardless, here she was with Nation in their headquarters. Probably being led to their leader through the hallways, people stepping aside at the guards that escorted her and whispering. She thanked the Lord that people tended not to look down, for if they did they would see the metal of her pedes.

She smiled beneath her cowl when she saw several children in the halls, running about and playing. Undoubtedly they were ones Lennox had helped to rescue from the cities and she thought that she saw a laughing Kathy beyond one of the open doors they passed.  _They're safe. Good._

At the end of the hallway was a single metal door, a sign on the front marking that it was not to be disturbed. "Do you have any tracking devices, Madame President?" One of the guards gave her an expression that said,  _I'm just following orders_.

She thought for a moment, remembering that Megatron had said that her tracker had been fried when she was cyberformed.  _But he didn't say that you don't have any others built into your body._ With some rationalization she answered, "No. If I did, I think  _he_  would have come for me by now."

Eleaniris didn't miss the flinch at  _he._ The  _single_ word, the  _single_ implied use of that being's name was enough to spark fear.

"What about weapons?" The other asked. Those she did have. "It's not that we don't trust you, but-"

"You have your orders. I understand." Eleaniris removed her daggers, bow, and quiver and handed them to the guardsmen.

They nodded in thanks and assured her, "These will be given back later, madame."

They turned to the door and indicated for her to step in. The room was dark, similar to the whole of the base, and several television screens were mounted to one wall. A man stood before them, his back to her, and was speaking to the shrouded figures on the screens.

"She won't be able to handle it," a woman's voice spoke in a slight asian accent, "He destroyed her."

The man knew she was there, even if he had not turned or given any indication that he had heard her entry as he said, "Why don't you ask her yourselves?" So they  _were_  talking about her.

Gasps and whispers of shock came from the speakers, and the man faced her and grinned in a friendly manner.

"Burns?" she whispered, not really believing it. All of her letters had been signed without a personal name, merely "The Council of Nation" or "District 13" and whatnot.

"It is a pleasure, madame, but here we do not use names." He smiled gently in the dim light.

"How can you do this? Won't they pick up on your signal?" Burns nodded at her concern, looking back at the screens.

"We do not do this often, and we believe that if they knew to look for satellite signals they would have already found us." Burns acknowledged their luck. "We are, to put it simply, white noise that they can tune into at any time."

Eleaniris stepped forward to stand beside him and apologized to the neglected leaders, "Please forgive my rudeness."

After brief greetings and introductions with the lettered code names, Eleaniris stood to answer their questions. The discussion was not long, but did bring up several points that she needed to ask herself.

What was she going to do now? What purpose had running away served? Had she run into a dead end when she had escaped? Operation Exodus was a failure of grand proportions, since it resulted in more of the humans being killed than in weakening and annoying their enemy. It had mainly been aimed at convincing Megatron that humans were too much trouble and they were better off on their own, but it only served to tighten his grip. Sabotage had proven ineffective, deceit worthless.

What about Energon? How was she going to get any of that? Would he try to starve her into coming back to him?

No. She would not crawl back and beg for food and warmth from the mech that had destroyed her life. She would not prove their point of him having destroyed her.

When the screens had clicked off and she and Burns had left, Eleaniris began to ask questions about the base. It seemed incredibly large and sophisticated to be built during such trying times, and Burns had acknowledged that it was older.

He said that it was a bomb shelter from the Cold War, built by the neighborhood to house the people living there in case of nuclear war. No records existed, the place having been forgotten until Simmons rediscovered it on accident while scouring the grocery store. It had been fully stocked but the goods were all expired, being from the 1960s. It was sparsely furnished with old cooking utilities and crumbling drywall, but it was better than nothing.

Their food, Burns had revealed, was grown in the nearby fields tended to at night. They were kept overgrown on purpose to throw off watching Decepticons and everyone on base was given one meal a day. It wasn't much, but it was just enough. Though morale was low Burns said that most of them were just glad to be alive and free, a rare combination since the Decepticons cast their shadow over Earth.

He had started to talk about Weapons Development, whose men had designed her bow and had it delivered to her, when she remembered with a start. "Where did they put my weapons?" she asked of Lennox and Epps, her optics going wide. They had followed them on the whole tour of the base, evidently reluctant to leave her side.

"We store visiting agents' weapons upstairs for safety reasons," Burns explained, "It helps to keep the residents' minds at ease, since our visitors are strangers to them."  _Stranger means unsafe_ , Eleaniris recalled.

"I need to get up there, now!" They were perplexed and confused but rushed to carry out her wish, leading her through the twisting halls and up the way she had come.  _If they so much as turn one of those hilts…_

She burst through the trap doors to see the guards from before waiting, holding her weapons. As she approached they offered them to her, "Tell me you didn't-"

It happened in slow motion. The guard did it on accident, she was sure, but it happened irregardless.

As he held out a dagger to her, his gloved hand slipped. The knife was falling, falling, and he caught it, turning the hilt as he did so. A sound like a grunt escaped her throat and the guards looked at her quizzically as a small stream of translucent fluid fell from the tip and hit the floor.

" _These blades will inject a, ah,_ paralyzer  _of sorts into the victim, regardless of their size and as long as it is in a fuel line. Anytime you use these, they alert me of your location."_

" _You will be told of my location wherever I am?" she asked incredulously, accepting the knife from his offered servo._

" _Wherever you are." he purred, stroking her right cheek rim with a claw, "I will always find you, my Empress." He leant forward and placed a tender kiss on the central peak of her crown._

Damn it all to hell. Shaking herself from her stupor, she yelled at Burns "Go! Initiate whatever lockdown procedures you have and  _do not come out_! He knows where I am!" She collected her weapons and looked back at the men gaping at her. "Didn't you hear me? He knows! Just  _leave_!"

The guards scrambled to the doors, the one that had fumbled apologizing like mad. She had to push Burns and Epps in, but Lennox refused to be locked in. "I made a promise." He said at her fiercely, his eyes showing so much emotion. He didn't have to say who the promise was made with; she knew.

"Fine, but follow me and listen to what I tell you." Eleaniris looked about the back room of the grocery store, toppling as many shelves as she could over the trap doors and running out the door. It was a matter of minutes until he would be there.  _He knows, he knows,_ her mind taunted and she sobbed in despair as they ran from the store.  _He knows. He will always find me, for I, the Slave Queen, will always belong to him._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Eleaniris escape again or has her luck run out? By the way, the scene where Megatron starts to interrogate Simmons is from Revenge of the Fallen.
> 
> Please review! They tend to inspire me :3.


	45. The Comm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.  
> Language.

Once he had received the notification on his internal display, he left orders for the rebel to be escorted back to his cell and for Eleaniris' former bodyguard to remain in the medbay. He was caught between being angry that she had run away, happy that she was found, and worried for the reason her dagger had been used.

She could have used them on accident or against an actual foe. He knew that it wasn't against one of his search parties, as he would have been commed by one of the partners at her being found. She could have tried to use it on a human, perhaps a rebel, if they had cornered her or…

Starscream.

None of the Cybertronian units of time would have been accurate enough to describe the speed with which he transformed and flew to the red coordinates on his display. " _Decepticons! The Queen has been located!"_ Megatron commed his followers and gave them the location of his Empress and mate. Ohh, how delicious it would be to smell her sweet scent and have her recharge on his chassis again. He restrained those thoughts when he felt his cod piece tighten and he groaned internally.  _Soon._

* * *

Eleaniris remembered one of the dreams she had had when she was a child. She was running from someone chasing her, be a mugger or kidnapper or axe murderer, and she was never able to get her legs to move fast enough. They would feel as if they were trying to move through jello or were just not responding fast enough, like Internet Explorer.

That nightmare felt as if it was happening right now.

The Decepticons were starting to zone in on the grocery store they had left behind to run through the trees. Every time one would land, she would feel an aftershock through the ground beneath her pedes. A particularly large one, accompanied by a familiar tree-shaking roar, told her who  _that_  one belonged to.

She would have to carry Lennox. It was the only way they could put distance between themselves and the Decepticons hunting them. She shuddered at the thought of what Megatron might do to her when he had caught her again. Would he chain her in a room? Keep her within his sight at all times? Kill her?

Maybe she had only made things worse by running away. Her chest certainly thought that way, if the twinge was anything to go by.  _Not to mention that you probably just gave away Nation. Smooth move._

_Hopefully those shelves will hide the trapdoors. Hopefully._

Eleaniris darted behind a tree when a pair of 'Cons flew overhead, thanking her lucky stars that Spring had arrived and new, green leaves served as their cover. Not listening to Lennox's protests, she threw him over her shoulder and ran through the treeline. One bonus of her new, unwanted metal body was its considerable strength and speed in comparison to that of a human. Of course it was nothing next to Megatron's, though, really,  _everything_  seemed to be nothing when compared to him.

When the Supreme Commander found the spot and landed with the teams, a single sweep of his arm tore off the roof of the building in a shower of splinters. Inside all he saw was the small pool of the clear paralysis fluid on a concrete floor; absent was the scared Empress he was expecting to find and comfort. " _Fan out!"_ he barked in Cybertronian at the dozen mechs around him, " _She is here somewhere."_

Had he not been so hasty and worried about the cause of his Queen's distress, he might have noticed the outline of a trapdoor underneath toppled shelves. As it was, though, he was busy searching for signs of a struggle. Besides the untidy state of the back room, which wasn't uncommon for old human buildings, there were no betraying scrapes on the floor or pools of Energon or blood. If humans had found her, there would surely be some of the latter. She was a decent fighter and, because of her body's sturdiness in comparison to flesh of humans, she would have at least  _injured_  one of them.

No, humans were not here. Starscream probably hadn't been either, since there was not enough damage to the exterior of the building - before he himself had inflicted some - to justify his or his band of renegades' presence. That left her using it on accident, which was strange considering that he thought her skilled enough to avoid using it like that. She also didn't have a habit of playing with the daggers outside of training, by catching and flipping the blades as he had seen some do.

Circuitsia was that way as well and only used them when necessary. He had given them to her to give her a sense of security after her rape, and she respected them too much to play around. In addition, her demeanor was too serious and well-mannered (odd for a femme of the lower class) to allow such behaviour. She took her duty very seriously, that femme did.

Like how Eleaniris clung to her presidency, as if her government hadn't been toppled like a tower under the assault of the Driller.  _You're a Queen, precious. Bask in the limelight, wealth and unadulterated_ luxury  _I give you. Is that too much to ask?_

Eleaniris was so prideful, maybe she had used them  _on purpose_  as a sly way of asking him to fetch her.  _If that isn't just adorable._ Maybe she came to her senses and realized that she needed him, but wanted a little chase.

If that were the case, he would be supremely angry with her for wasting his, and a large part of his army's, time. But a part of him thought lustfully,  _If only she knew how much I crave the hunt._

Referencing his memory banks for her scent, he tasted the air for any signs of her presence. She had a distinct smell that spoke to his very spark, would make it flutter whenever he got a deep whiff of her heavenly aroma.

 _ **Flutter**_ _? A warlord's, much less a Supreme Commander's, spark does not_ " _ **flutter**_ _."_ Another, silky voice in his processor disputed,  _But yours does, for_ _ **her**_ _. And it's not the only thing that warms at the thought of her, either._

Megatron received a miniscule amount of feedback from his olfactory sensors, just enough to direct him to the forest beyond.  _Where have you run off to?_ Perhaps comming her and giving her a chance to speak to him would produce some results. Regardless, he proceeded toward the wood with a smirk on his face.

Unbeknownst to the lustful metal behemoth, the families of Nation were sitting in the darkness beneath him, listening to - and feeling - his footsteps fade away. Slowly less dust fell from the ceiling and whispered conversation grew louder. Burns and Epps knelt in a corner and shared a glance,  _Poor thing._

Eleaniris almost dropped the Ranger when a comm. came from  _him_. " _Eleaniris, my dear, what has happened?"_

 _Like hell I'll tell you._ Shifting Lennox on her shoulder, she ignored it completely. " _Do not play games with me, Eleaniris."_ His tone was oddly...teasing, as if he was holding back a chuckle.

She couldn't help it anymore and prayed that he couldn't track her when she answered, " _Oh? Like how you play games with me? I'm not a toy, I'm a sentient being and I will no longer partake in your_ _ **games**_ _."_

There were several seconds of shocked silence on Megatron's part and a smug silence on her own.

His growl sounded incredibly close in her own helm, " _You think I'm playing with you, Eleaniris? Do you think my affection is a_ _ **game**_ _?"_

She snorted, mindful that Lennox was giving her a look, " _No. It's a joke."_ With that she hung up on him, feeling incredibly sassy as she did so.  _If he finds me, I'm so dead. He'll squish me._

Megatron could hardly believe what he had just heard. She was brave, perhaps, for having the courage to tell him that, yet also obtuse for daring to utter that to  _him_. He was seething now and bent to look over the ground for tracks.  _A_ _ **joke**_ _?_

How could he prove that he was serious? If she didn't get it by now, with all that he had done for her, she never would. He also couldn't let her get off with the last word either; last time he had checked, he had defeated  _her_. He  _owned_  her.

" _Little one, do not do that again. If you_ _ **dare**_   _to end a comm. with_ _ **me**_ _in that manner ever again, you will detest the consequences."_ He continued in his dark, warning tone, " _I will not punish you for this infraction, but an insult to my honor is not forgivable."_

" _ **Honor**_ _? What_ _ **honor**_ _?"_ Eleaniris laughed at him in morbid despair that he failed to catch, " _You Decepticons have no concept of what honor means."_

" _ **Explain**_ _."_ His voice was curt, sharp, and dangerous.

" _I suppose your_ 'code of honor'" she spat the words sarcastically, " _dictates that going_ _ **out of your way**_   _to slaughter a race that cannot even_ _ **defend**_   _itself is acceptable; that keeping that race's young as slaves and torturing them for fun is honor of the highest calibre."_ Eleaniris knew the venom in her voice, knew that he would kill her for what she had said…

But she didn't care anymore. If this battle for freedom was for naught, she would very much like to exit stage left from the Play of Life. There was no purpose here for her, no method to the madness.

Before he could interrupt her, she went on " _When I was growing up, I lived in a nice, middle-class neighborhood with a bunch of other kids. I liked most of them but there was one boy, Silas, that many of us avoided."_ Her voice went from the softness of remembrance to the cruel tones of accusation, " _I remember that he used to take his father's magnifying glass and find a line of ants on the sidewalk. He would focus the glass so that the light of the sun would hit the ants just right and set them on fire."_

Her voice was growing steadily harsher and she almost tripped over a rock because of her focus on the conversation, " _I would try to get him to stop, tell him that it was just mean and cruel. He didn't listen and laughed, saying that it was funny that they couldn't defend themselves, that the way they would twitch as they died was hilarious. 'They're just_ _ **bugs**_ _,' he would say, 'They don't_ _ **matter**_ _.'"_

Megatron knew where this was going but his spark still dropped through his chassis when he heard through the comm., " _You remind me of him, you emotionless, callous, deceitful, cruel, cold, genocide-committing_ _ **machine**_ _. You say all the time that your race is superior, but guess what?"_

" _At least_ _ **we**_   _didn't destroy_ _ **our**_   _planet with a civil war because_ _ **we**_   _know when to stop."_ Megatron was glad that his mechs were out of sight so that they did not see his flinch, could not see his regret at giving her a history datapad. " _At least_ _ **we**_   _have those 'higher life-functions' of empathy and kindness. But I suppose it is too much to expect of_ machines  _to feel_ _ **emotion**_ _."_ His anger was reaching heights that he wasn't sure it had reached before and he tore out the trees next to him, fully grown oaks and saplings alike, with a single effortless sweep of his arm.

" _And if you think that is uncalled for, well so was the invasion, destruction, and enslavement of my home."_ Her voice was so bitter, so very cruel, and it tore open his spark with hot blades dripping with venom.

Lennox's eyes widened at the rough language streaming from his President's mouth, but by now she was seeing red, " _I don't like to curse, but I hate you with a strength too strong for any of the fucking words in the fucking English language. So, if you will excuse me, my_ _ **lord**_ _,"_ her sarcastic snarl pierced him as she finished, " _I will take my leave, you_ son of a bitch _."_

If she was any of his subordinates, he would have killed her by now. He would have stopped listening and ordered a strike, not even allowing her to say the human's form of  _son of a glitch._ Megatron felt himself start shaking with the fire of his wrath, and allowed himself 10 nano-clicks to let it rage. When time was up, the trees around him had been turned into splinters by the force of his servos and strength of his fusion cannon.

He shook himself, denying that her words had ever reached him.  _She's just scared. She has no support whatsoever in this wilderness, no way of securing Energon. She's helpless and fearful and doesn't know what she is saying, and she's never said things like that to me before. She hasn't said that she hates me for a full orbital cycle._   _What if she's injured, and that is why she is so wrathful?_ The remnants of anger fell away and was promptly replaced with worry tenfold of what his fury had been. Maybe she had hurt herself on accident, causing the dagger to discharge somehow?

She wouldn't hurt herself on purpose, would she?

No, he wouldn't even consider that. It had to be that she was hurt somehow, and that was why she had said his affection was a joke. She was too smart to think that under normal circumstances; according to Soundwave's report on her she had an IQ of 153, high enough to be considered a genius among the humans.

Injured it was, then. Neutral Circuitsia had been angry with him for starting a war, always one to believe that the dispute could be solved peacefully, but she had never said anything to the level of what Eleaniris had just said.

After checking with his mechs and ordering them to sweep the area, as well as calling new crews in, he was back on his way, following her tracks and little whiffs of her scent here and there.  _Poor thing. It's alright little one, your mate is here. I'll protect you, make you feel safe and happy again. I can make it so that none of this ever happened._ He came across a spot where it looked as if she had stumbled and almost fallen, his concern taking over his spark.  _It's okay, little one. I'll find you shortly._

Eleaniris, still angry, hoisted Lennox further up onto her shoulder and picked up the pace when she started feeling tremors.  _He deserved it. What he did to me, what he did to all of us, was too much. It's only fair that he is denied what he wants._ "Megatron," she answered his questioning look. He nodded, as if to say " _figures_ ," and her mind finished its train of thought.

_Karma's a bitch._

Not that chest-pulsing thing again.  _That's hardly the worst thing I could have said._ Still, the place where her heart used to be twinged almost painfully.  _But he's been nothing but kind to you personally. He gave you a heating pad for your period, for God's sake! He's not all bad, and maybe that was a little mean._ Eleaniris didn't give that thought attention.

Nevertheless, she didn't want Lennox to be caught with her if Megatron did find her. He shouldn't die, like Simmons and Wilson probably already had. She splashed through a stream and scanned the surroundings of the green forest, spotting a ditch with a tiny, almost invisible cave against one bank. A large slab of rock hung over the edge, providing a concealed place for her to put Lennox. "Go in there, and don't come out. That's an order." Eleaniris whispered, the shakes growing stronger.

Will nodded but tried to convince her to hide as well. "No, I have to go. Hide your scent with mud and dirt before he smells it. I will come back if I can."

She took off, going back into the stream and running up it, using an old trick to throw hounds off a trail.  _Smart._ Figuring that she knew more about the robots than he did, he hastily started scraping away mud and applying it to his body. He really had wanted to go with her to fulfill his promise but her orders, as his President and Commander in Chief, were still to be honored. She was a gutsy one for talking to their conqueror like that, and Lennox feared for her safety, but orders were orders.

Two minutes later, he muffled his breathing upon seeing enormous metal feet enter the small line of visibility between the rock and the ground. A small rain of dirt fell on his head as he prayed,  _Go, Eleanor, he's here._

Her line of scent, as scanty as it was since she had not spent much time anywhere, stopped at a shallow stream. He was faced with two directions; up or down. Megatron chose one at random, comming for Dreadwing and his team to take the other way and to report in on any movement. For her to evade him this way, after saying such venomous things, meant that he had probably scared her into running away from him. Imagining that she was terrified of him  _and_  that she was fighting some injury while running from him cut into his spark.  _Little one, precious flower petal, I am no threat to you. How else can I show you this?_

When the giant's footsteps had faded into the distance, Lennox let loose the breath he had been holding. The tension in his chest did not release him from its hold, however, since his worry for Eleanor was growing by the minute.

For Megatron just  _happened_  to follow the direction she had chosen. The cat would be upon the mouse any minute now.

* * *

"She  _is_  a strong one." The mechs sat around the projected image in the center of their circle, watching Eleaniris run from her unwanted mate.

"But is she  _the_  one?"

Across space the cry of the suffering Earth rang out, searching still for a pair of Autobot audios to listen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was emotionally taxing. Maybe my jibe at Internet Explorer served to soften it up a bit though.
> 
> Reviews are never unwelcome.


	46. The Rag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Language.

Eleaniris felt her time slipping away with each increase in the tremors following her. She had to find somewhere to hide, especially after how she had just mouthed off. He was probably furious to the point it was deadly, and her anger had worn off to the point where she was no longer willing to tempt death.

Lennox was depending on her if no one else was. She still was unsure whether the base had been located, but was too fearful to even hope; it would just be all the more crushing if she thought those children were free and she saw them in those beasts' metal claws, crying and screaming for help, for their mothers to save them from the monsters that weren't supposed to exist.

Eleaniris wished they would stay in their place under the beds and in the closets, where parents could keep them contained with their swords of reassurance and whispers of strength. Unfortunately, Decepticons were real and were not simply strange shadows on the bedroom wall, things that went "bump" in the night or a tree branch scratching on the window pane. Decepticons were the monsters under the bed that  _adults_  were scared of, and who could comfort the children if their  _parents_ , too, were terrified?

At the end of her rope, she found a deep place in the stream where she might be able to hide. The soil was dark brown, almost black in the shady space it lay beneath the leaved trees and eddied to form a pool. Wrapping her black cloak tight around her, she slipped into it as smoothly as she could to limit the amount of waves she caused.

Relieved that breathing was no longer a necessity, Eleaniris laid down on her front on the earthen floor and propped her helm up so that she was looking through the top of the water. She made sure that her cloak had been thoroughly soaked so that it did not float and that her hood was over her head.

The shakes beneath her grew stronger and stronger, almost echoing in her audios in the absence of a heartbeat. He was too close for her to move now and she was forced to stay where she was. She tensed when she saw him above her, sweeping the ground ahead of him with red optics that…

 _Weren't_  angry?

They looked… worried. Concerned. Anxious. Distressed.  _Caring_?

After she had said all of that to him, it had  _no_  effect? He should have looked murderous, being the proud Supreme Commander he was, at being called a  _son of a bitch_ and a  _machine_ by one of the bugs he had conquered _._ Megatron should have been clenching and unclenching his servos so that sparks flew from them, that gear in his leg turning and clicking so quickly and loudly that she would have heard it under the water. She was puzzled as to why he wasn't irate, angry that he had the audacity to be worried about her, and also  _happy_  that he  _cared_?

_A house divided against itself cannot stand. Pull yourself together. He doesn't...doesn't…._

_Damn it all to hell._ Eleaniris couldn't even  **think**  that he wasn't worthy of her attention.  _He's trying to make you into a willing concubine so that he can get around his "no rape rule." That's the only reason he's been kind to you._

The tiniest, quietest voice she had ever heard rebutted,  _Parties, jewels, coronations, roses, touches, vacations, silk clothing… That seems to be an awful lot for a slave._

His footsteps were gone and she rose carefully, watching the skies and the ground for Decepticons and marking that thought for condemnation.  _A house divided against itself cannot stand._

* * *

Everything in his life served a purpose. There was an incredibly miniscule amount of room for illogical items.

 _He was apprehensive to accept the gift from his Master at first, not sure of what to do with a tiny femme. Sure, as a mech he had_ needs _, but as of late Megatron had made it extremely clear that interfacing and bonding was prohibited until further notice. Even before this rule, he had possessed no desire to shrink down for the human-turned-Cybertronian femme; there was simply no time nor need to do so._

_She had served as something of a distraction for several solar cycles, an observational experiment. To his slight annoyance, his emotionlessness had not dampered her warm and chatty behaviour whatsoever within those Earth days. Thinking that showing her Driller might scare her into silence so that he could rest his audios, he had done just that._

" _Where are we going, mister Shockwave?" Talia, the little femme, practically ran after him on his way down into the basement sections where Driller was kept. Her over-talkative mannerisms were starting to hurt his audios and annoy his processor, even if most of her day was spent working in the library and only the afternoons and mornings were spent with him._

" _You shall see." His voice was deep and emotionless as always. He couldn't betray his aggravation, could he? The only reason he had come with her was to make sure that she did not get too seriously damaged, since the chances of Megatron taking that as an insult were 99.6%. His Master was not one to give gifts often, usually being on the receiving end of tributes. Though he could not stop Driller from doing what the beast truly wanted to, he might be able to salvage what was left of her to make something useful._

_He tapped in the code for the earthen lair of Driller and allowed his femme to step in the dim, cavernous space first. Observing that it was not present in the huge room, he called it in Cybertronian. Talia looked up at him questioningly, but her expression soon switched to one of awe, surprise, and fear at the sight of his pet._

" _What_ _ **is**_   _that?" Driller had ignored her until she spoke, but now the central tentacle of the beast was trained on her. It started to slither towards her, the smaller tendrils reaching out. He barked multiple times at it, but it payed no heed to him and continued on its path. Talia had back up into a wall and cowered from it and he watched it rise up so that it was over her, drill blades spinning. He thought, right then and there, that that was the end of Megatron's gift to him._

_But, instead of diving down and ripping through the small femme in one go, it lowered itself and its blades slowed to a complete halt. Talia still quivered, watching it with wide optics. Then he saw the Driller do something he had never known them to do._

_It thrummed, almost akin to a purr from a happy Turbofox. One of its encircling tendrils reached out to nudge at her in a... reassuring way? The beast was being extraordinarily careful with the small femme, who slowly straightened and looked at the Driller curiously._

" _Awww." Talia said softly, making the Driller's thrum even louder as it purred. When she reached out hesitantly to touch the Cybertronian animal, it rose its central head into her touch. She giggled, stroking carefully over the deadly blades. "You're cute."_

 _He had remained in his place but he thought that this had gone far enough; his pet was a killing machine, not tender and sweet. When he stepped forward to try to pluck Talia up to leave, however, the Driller's head - or where he supposed it was - snapped up and swiveled to_ threaten  _him, blades whirring to life in a clear warning. One of the arms of the beast found Talia and swirled around her just tightly enough to pluck her up and pull her closer. It was being extremely mindful of how small she was, and he knew that his pet could crush the femme if it wanted to._

_He backed off, holding up his single servo in a surrender. Driller, seemingly content with this, turned back to the femme in its grasp. She smiled at it as it pushed her against its body and resumed its thrumming, moving so as to put space between themselves and him. It coiled in a manner similar to the way he had seen Earth snakes do, holding her before its central opening._

_In that moment he decided that she was worth keeping around for study. Never had he seen a Driller, one of Cybertron's most ferocious beasts, behave in such a manner. And to disobey him, its master! His pet had not strayed so far from his orders before. Curious indeed._

_Realizing that Talia's question had not been answered, he called out to her, "This is Driller."_

" _Driller," she repeated lowly, the worm thrumming louder at its name. It nuzzled her with one of its smaller tentacles and she giggled again, stroking the appendage with a tiny servo._

_When trying to convince the Driller to let her go hadn't worked, Talia eventually cajoled the beast to set her down. It did, though hesitantly, and nudged her in farewell. It made some soft clicking sounds before going back through the earthen floor to an unknown destination._

Since Shockwave had started paying more attention to her, he noticed several things. For one, everything that he found ordinary and typical she found strange and new. Showing her how to use her comm. link, for instance, had brought a look of elation and wonder to her faceplates that reset his systems. It was like teaching a sparkling.

How he wanted some of those.

It was illogical to believe that he would live forever and some offspring that he could instruct in the sciences would be welcome. It would be a pleasure to teach his own young, to see his own coding manifesting itself into something useful.

What research he had done on his gift showed that she desired the same. He even found some records of the programming she had been receiving, prior to the Decepticon takeover of Earth, to become an instructor for human younglings. With mannerisms like that from their Carrier, his sparklings would be quite the learners. He could put up with her chatty persona for that. It was starting to grow on him, but he would admit that the day Megatron painted himself pink.

Presently she was sitting on one of the tables in his lab in the back of the medbay, watching him work on his tribute for Eleaniris' coronation. His search shift was over and he took the opportunity to go back to his tools and experiments. He hadn't allowed Talia to see what his gift was just yet, but every time she asked his resistance wore down a little.

"Are you  _sure_  I can't see?" Talia stared at him pleadingly, cocking her helm to the side.

"Insolent femme," he growled only for her to giggle before he swept her up into his servo. "You can see."

"Thank you," she cooed sweetly, pressing her tiny lip components against the plating of his servo. Against his will a pleasant tingle shot up his arm, throwing his processor into a momentary warm fuzz. He didn't reply and opened the doors for the cages of specimens in the back.

"Only a few have been successful." Shockwave turned on the lights in the room and set her on the counter before the glass of the cage. "I plan to breed many more for the Queen."

She walked towards the barrier, her lips open in a gasp. The few peacocks and peahens of red and gold walked aimlessly around their container, a few by the water and feed bowls. The crimson hues of the genetically-altered birds had replaced the blues, whereas a shiny, metallic gold had taken the place of the green tones.

The whole row of cages, which had been formerly occupied by human experiments for Cyberformation, held males and females of dark purple, turquoise, and black in their own separate containers. All of the base colors were combined with golden highlights were the blue "eyes" used to be, and the peahens possessed just as much coloring as the males.

"She's going to love these," Talia said quietly, walking past and inspecting each cage,  _If she ever comes back_. "Where are they going to go?"

"Once the gardens have been completed they will be allowed to wander the grounds." Shockwave remained in his place by the door watching her. He had been working on different plant types and the lawn Megatron supposed that his mate might like. So far all he had was a type that would grow to only a certain height, nullifying the need to cut it. To his knowledge others were designing the fountains and landscaping.

Abruptly Talia stopped and turned to him again, remembering what Megatron had done to the rebels in the medbay, "Do you think she is going to come back?"  _I wouldn't after what I saw him almost do. How many times has she actually watched him kill? How many times did she feel as helpless as we did in that room?_

Shockwave stepped forward and picked her up, "She is going to have to."  _Because Megatron is never denied, is he?_

* * *

 _This is sick,_ Lennox thought to himself, observing Eleaniris in her sleep as he kept watch over the moonlit forest.

She had come back to him in the evening, wanting to be sure that Megatron was off her tail and she didn't inadvertently lead him back. She had had to take the long route, since she couldn't use the stream again, to circle around and back to his cave. After getting lost and turned around a few times she found him and discussed their next course of action.

They both agreed that going back to Nation was not feasible at this point, given that the ground over it was crawling with Decepticons hunting for her. Eleaniris had thought that they hadn't been caught because of the lack of activity that would be associated with the discovery of an enemy base; her metal ears had not caught any human screams or cries from that direction. She had also expressed that Megatron himself would not have walked away at the chance to kill a few rebels himself.

The woman next to him shifted and whimpered in her sleep, a words like "Stop,  _please_ " repeated over and over. As an Army Ranger, Captain William Lennox knew what post traumatic stress disorder looked like. A few of his own men had fallen victim to that beast, the one that hunted happiness and feed off of nightmares. He would have expected someone that had gone through unknown horrors as she had to be screaming and crying in their sleep, not just whimpering and begging.

Who knows what that monster had done to her. From what he could see nothing physical, but he suspected that the mind beneath that metal was as tortured and cut up as some of the leaders' bodies had been. As raw and bleeding as the backs of some of the children were.

He had listened to her lecture Megatron about honor and he felt for her. The pain that blossomed in his soul and heart at seeing enslaved and terrified children was probably aggravated a billion times for her; she seemed the type to blame everything on herself when it was not her fault.

It was not by her own hand that humanity couldn't stand up to the assault of the Decepticons, couldn't fight back against the hard, metal fist of Megatron crushing their world. It was not by her own design that their conquerors' revelry came from the trembling Earth under their Master's clawed thumb, that that enormous monster had come to desire her as a pleasure slave. She had not ordered Megatron's forces to kill her sister.

Wilson had told him about the pain he saw on their President's face while she watched her younger sibling die over the Chicago surveillance cameras. They had only seen the back of her attacker, large wings the most distinguishable feature, but her sister's mouth open in a scream of death had been as visible as the blue sky on a clear day. Lennox wasn't sure that he wouldn't have broken right then and there. She had gone through that, a year of being hunted, the subsequent capture, and then crowned the Queen of the race that slaughtered her sister and rendered flesh from her bones.

He, his men, and the majority at Nation saw the coronation as a farce, a sick comedic play for the sick enjoyment of the Earth's new masters. He supposed that, for their invaders, watching their leader take the losing side's strongest commander as a plaything was just  _hilarious_. She whimpered and shifted again, and he sighed at her pain. The crying and traumatized, weak and helpless woman was a far cry from where she had been only a year and a half ago, the President of the most powerful country in the world, the Commander in Chief. He remembered seeing her acceptance speech, how happy and thankful and strong she had been at her nation's choice.

Now she was a wrecked shell of who she had once been; not even her own  _humanity_  had escaped that monster's ravenous hunger. He could only hope that somewhere in the husk of her mind was a little spark of the President Sherman that had spat in their offenders' eye, that had the guts to snarl and fight. He had had hope when she argued with and insulted Megatron earlier, but that vanished when he saw her fear and helplessness return upon hiding him.

Regardless she had expressed that she needed to find Energon, the sustenance of their world's enslavers. From his scouting knowledge he knew that their was a plant further South, close enough that they might be able to make it tomorrow.

* * *

Megatron had not returned to his quarters with his Empress as he had hoped. It had taken some convincing that he might be able to find her tomorrow, since a recharge-deprived processor was a poor one at tracking. He had wanted to located her himself, as was his responsibility as her mate, but he knew it was wise to hand over the search to the nocturnal crews. Dreadwing had organized them and the Emperor had a great deal of faith in his subordinate's loyalty and intelligence.

The shattered glass had been cleaned up, but the windows were still open and the cold wind swept over his armor. On nights like this Eleaniris might have cuddled closer on his chassis for the warmth from his spark. He smiled ruefully at the memory of how she would curl up into a little ball to recharge, an arm propping up her helm while her other stayed on her hip.

His berthroom had stayed relatively untouched by Starscream's attack, only a few items had been shuffled around when that glitch had been looking for  _his_  Queen. None of Eleaniris' possessions had been moved and they still sat on the nightstand to his right, her black piano gleaming and stack of history and literature datapads there. He had even given her some of those primitive "books" the humans had, searching for her favorites via her shopping records on the internet site "Amazon."

He proceeded into his washracks to shower and clean off the mud and dirt from his searches. He did so quickly, the water just as cold and empty as his spark without her presence. Every time he thought of her his spark would liven, pulsing quicker and brightening. It was curious, his behaviour; never before had he observed this in himself.

When he was done he went to collect several rags for his polish - he wanted to look his best when he caught her tomorrow - and moved to take a seat on the chair. After he opened the canister, he lowered the servo when a bit of red caught his optic.

Drawing out the cloth from the wad, he wracked his memory banks for the source of his recognition. It was torn, battered, the white a dirty grey and navy blue dark with stains. The red had not faded on the large flag, still a bright crimson hue, though the edges had frayed and some of the seams between the stripes were torn open.

Megatron finally found his answer in his memory of the very first picture he had seen of then-Eleanor Sherman. It was reported to be her official presidential portrait and in the top left corner hung a banner of the same patterns as the one he held in his servo. He contemplated the rag for a moment, longer than he should have. He should have just shrugged and used the scrap to polish the metal plating of his body; after all, that nation no longer existed in his processor.

He  _had_  taken their President as his Queen.

But he also recalled an interview he had come across in his searches for her likes and dislikes, one in which she spoke about the banner he held in his claws. To his knowledge she had been reading a passage, one that she said "held a great place in her heart."

She was not present now for him to see her reaction, but what if she was? What if she had watched him use it like a common rag? Would she be upset?

The warlord set the cloth aside and finished his polishing. It didn't hurt not to use it and he believed that his Queen would have appreciated the gesture. Instead of reflecting further he turned his processor's energy towards ways to get her back and treat her injuries.  _Poor little dear._

Once done Megatron went back to his berth and placed his orders for a hastened pace on one set of his orbital-cycles-old orders. Even if it played no part in catching her it would surely impress her in one way or another.

But why had she run? What could he have done to make her so angry or scared or  _both_? Had asking her for a simple slow dance with him been so  _terrible_? He had been incredibly meticulous in his following of the ways of human courtship - or so Soundwave had told him. He clenched his servos and made another note for himself before drifting into a shallow recharge, his chassis feeling empty and cold and another emotion he hadn't known in vorns and vorns.

The Emperor of Destruction, Ruler and Conqueror of Earth, Decepticon Tyrant and Warlord  _hated_  loneliness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abraham Lincoln is quoted as saying "A house divided against itself cannot stand."
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, and *PMs* about any plot holes are appreciated.


	47. The Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.
> 
> Language

"We're almost there, Madame President." Thank goodness. She hadn't recharged much the night before, switching between nightmares of pushing the slave keeper over the edge and Frenzy and Rumble singing  _Playing with the Big Boys Now._

Eleaniris nodded at Lennox, pulling the now-dry cloak tighter around her to shadow her a little better. She had covered herself with mud, to hide both her scent and the gleam of metal, but it was a little into the afternoon and the sun might hit and reflect off of any spots she missed. Getting caught would be bad; getting caught with Lennox would be even worse. Megatron would infer that she was the leader of these rebellions and the leader of the resistance movement. But finding her with another male, alone, in the middle of the wilderness, he might think that they were  _mates_.

She shivered, remembering James and his unknown fate at the servos of Megatron. Since she was now his "official Queen" the punishment for Lennox would probably be slow, painful, bloody, and nightmarish. It was unlikely that his death would be a swift, single crush in Megatron's servo; that sadist was likely to draw it out and torture him for information while punishing him for  _daring_  to touch what was  _his_.

They froze when a pair of jets shot across the sky, low over the trees with a swish of air and a sound like prolonged thunder. All day they had been dodging both aerial and foot patrols, the latter being harder to avoid. More than once she had thrown herself into a bush and Lennox had followed her, coming out with new scratches every time.

There was an increased amount of noise that Eleaniris associated with slave camps, complete with screams, robots giving orders in harsh voices and the chatter of Cybertronian here and there. As they came to the crest of the hill Eleaniris and Lennox were met with an astonishing sight.

Huge hangar buildings had been erected, several stories tall, for as far as her optics could see. In each sat silver metal structures of all sizes and shapes, though most had rounded tops that made them resemble beetles. It didn't take her more than a second to recognize them for what they were.

Ships for interstellar travel. Vessels of conquest for the Decepticon Empire.

Her knees felt weak and she wanted to throw up whatever Energon was left in her tanks. Megatron's ultimatum was spelled out for her, repeated over and over in each of the warehouses before her.  _Interstellar conquest, domination, subjugation, and enslavement._

Soon, very soon from the looks of the ships, humanity would not be the only slaves of the Decepticon Empire. Earth would not be the only planet that had been enveloped by Megatron's huge throat and trembled in the iron fist of the mech that claimed to be her mate.  _Shoot me now._

Her world would not be the only one raped by the Decepticon war machine; it would be one of hundreds, one of thousands, one of millions. They would strip every world within their reach, and Megatron had made clear that no planet lay outside of his shadow.

What made her think that she could run from him? He would find her anyway, no matter what she did, and it would be back to sleeping on his chest by night and being licked by that huge glossa by day. He would probably chain her to him, keep her within his sight for every single moment that remained for the rest of her miserable life - however long  _that_  was. Her every waking moment would be filled with nuzzles from his nasal plating, kisses on her helm, touches to her body, and licks dripping with slime.

A particularly shrill cry came from the ground beyond the barbed, tall fence. A slave keeper stood over a girl of eleven or twelve, gesturing angrily at the carton of wires and circuitry she had dropped. She held up scarred, dirty hands in a defensive gesture, but the drone ignored her and scooped up her hair, yanking her to her feet and drawing a pained cry from her chapped lips. Eleaniris watched in horror, crouched behind a tree, with tears brimming in her optics. Lennox, too, looked sad at what they were witnessing.

The slave master, girl's hair still in his servo, stood to his full 10-foot height so that she dangled by the roots of her mane. Her hands pried uselessly at the digits suspending her, pleading and crying, while the black robot pulled out his crackling electric whip. Eleaniris almost leapt out to demand a stop to this madness when a familiar frame waltzed around the corner of one of the buildings. He had been discussing something with the mech following him, looking at a datapad in his servo, when his attention was called to the scene. An expression of anger took up residence on his face and he left the officer behind.

" _What were my orders,_ _ **drone**_ _?"_ Megatron snarled in Cybertronian, glaring down at the frozen slave keeper. The girl, too, was still and her wide eyes locked onto the towering behemoth speaking an alien tongue.

" _S-Supreme C-Commander! My deepest, most sincere a-apologies!"_ Megatron looked unimpressed and shifted, purposefully shaking the ground beneath the drone to remind him of his size. " _I was merely punishing this slave -"_

" _Drop it. Now."_ Eleaniris flinched at him calling the girl "it," but it was nothing new. He always called humans "it" with the exception of her. The slave master complied, opening his servo and letting her fall a few feet to the dirt. She scampered away, collecting her tools and going to one of the sheds.

" _You know that human young are not to be beaten until they are fully grown. There are other methods of punishment."_ So he was misleading her about children being free from the slave labor aspect; they still worked, but in jobs more suitable. Interesting that he was worried about how they were punished, however.  _See? He's not all bad._

Eleaniris clenched her jaw.  _Zip it._ Next to her though, Lennox cocked his head at the display beyond the fence and his expression changed.

Megatron scooped up the drone in a fist, holding him before his face like a cube of Energon. " _You are lucky that many of my forces have been diverted to looking for my Queen and I need the labor. Next time you disobey a direct order, you will not be so fortunate."_ He puffed hot exhaust over the drone, relishing the way he trembled, before dropping him to the dirt and stepping over the prone form. Warships had to be inspected before they were used to look for his Queen, and he had better things to do than reprimand those so low in his ranks.

He had done it for Eleaniris; besides, he wasn't the type to want to torture children. He was a conqueror and enslaver of worlds, but not an abuser of younglings. Despite what his Queen had said, his Decepticons had a code of honor that  **would**  be abided by. She was wrong that it wasn't honorable to conquer and enslave those that were weaker, for it was just making use of resources available to his Decepticons. With time she would see it this way and accept her place in  _his_  lap on  _his_  throne, basking in the glory he brought to their Empire with every added world. She would gladly give him warriors of their combined coding, would smile upon his return from conquering, would beg to be taken in his berth.

Would give him passionate kisses of her own volition, would sleep on his chassis without a fight, would chase away the loneliness from his spark.

* * *

Eleaniris and Lennox walked side by side through the forest, watching and listening in the dusk of the evening for their predators. "I didn't expect for him to do that," Lennox said, trying to ease her suffering and also the silence.

"I didn't either. He told me that he would do something about the children being slaves and 'relocate' them, but I expected him to lie about it." Lennox continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye, asking her to go on.

"I mean, he did mislead me with the words he used, but I thought things wouldn't actually change." Eleaniris sighed, "He is still a monster, no question about that."

"How did you do that?" Eleaniris had forgotten how odd it was that she could demand such things from him without getting crushed or pulled apart.

"Well, he asked why I was scared of him and why he hadn't proved that he  _cared_  for me," Eleaniris chuckled morbidly, "and I mentioned that I didn't want anything to do with someone that enslaved children. He pretended not to know about his orders to enslave  _all_ of the human race and told me that they would be removed to a different location, within each slave camp I assume. He implied that special accommodations would be made, but who knows what that means."

She didn't see how the look in Lennox's eyes changed when he thought,  _He wants to prove himself to you? Then that party made sense. All of it makes sense, but why_ _ **you**_ _? Why does he want the former President of the United States to_ _ **love**_   _him?_

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered. Speak of the devil - quite literally - a notification of an incoming comm. from  _him_  came through to find purchase on her internal display. She accepted for Lord-knows what reason, making an oath of silence with herself.

" _Eleaniris, where are you? This charade has gone far enough. Please, precious, come back to me."_ Even through the comm. link he sounded desperate, sad. It pulled at her heartstrings a little, but she clenched her jaw shut.  _It's only been a day,_ she thought,  _It's impossible that he misses me that much_.

" _I know you're hurt, Eleaniris. If you come back I can tend to your injuries."_ She almost snorted, wondering where he got that notion. " _Your tank is probably getting empty too."_ His voice was low, cooing in his attempt to entice her. " _I can fix that, little one. I can give you everything that you will ever need, will ever want."_

 _Except what I actually want, right? There are no limits to the jewels and riches you offer me, but freedom for the human race is too much to ask for._ She cut him off, tired of his empty promises and deception and discarding her silence, " _Sorry, I don't negotiate with terrorists."_ And with that she closed the comm. before he could defend himself.

Megatron growled in frustration when she rejected him yet again, leaning back in his office chair. He completely disregarded her irksome terminology, looking deeper into her mentality.  _What did I do this time? What do I keep saying that is wrong, Eleaniris?_ He stared at the painting of his Queen, letting his optics settle on her image. She looked so peaceful and blissful in that picture; why couldn't she just accept that she was an Empress now, and no longer a mere human  _President_?

* * *

Megatron knew that he had to contact her, but how? She simply refused to speak with  _him_ , but maybe someone else might be able to reach her.  _Perhaps one of your friends might help?_

A breem later Soundwave entered with the five femmes to find his Master with his arms crossed over his chassis, an impassive expression present on his faceplates. "Place them on the desk, Soundwave."

He followed the order, stooping to put Grace on the surface before his Lord. After making sure that touching them was alright - it was considered a challenge of possession for a mech to give an unsolicited touch to another Decepticon's mate - he did the same and stepped back. They stood nervously, body language tense, before the massive leader of the Decepticons. His own body language did not change, but his gaze shifted downwards to the femmes on his desk.

"Grace, come forward." His voice betrayed no emotion and that made Soundwave nervous. She did as he asked, coming closer to him and away from the group on the foremost edge of the desk.

"You are close to Eleaniris, are you not?" She nodded, her pink optics narrowed with wariness.

"Are you aware that she has left the palace?" Using all of her willpower, she nodded again. Though he was not leaning over her and sat back in his chair, he was still intimidating.

" _How_  did you know of her departure?" His tone was suspicious and dangerous, carrying a silent warning. If he thought that she was in on Eleaniris' plan, what would happen to her?

 _It was an escape, you monster._  "You mentioned that you would use Ben when Eleaniris was returned to you."

Megatron ceased his questioning, shifting in his chair and making the metal groan. He changed topics, evidently satisfied, "She refuses to speak with me. Perhaps she will talk with you." Grace swallowed, realizing what he was going to ask her to do.

He swept his servo towards her and his optics left her to fixate on Soundwave, "Soundwave, you know what must be done."

The mech stepped forward, two tentacles emerging and coming towards her. The other femmes scurried out of the way and his gaze told her  _I'm sorry, Grace._ One of the tips was blunt and curled around her abdomen to hold her in place. The other, with the sharp tip, carefully pried open a spot at the base of her neck where it connected to her helm. She stayed as still as possible, waiting for whatever was to happen. Wondering if it was a telepathic link she thought clearly,  _Can you hear me?_

There was, thankfully, no response.

"Comm. her femme." Megatron leaned forward slightly, setting his arms in front of her and consciously reminding the shy stylist of his size.  _And you wonder why Eleaniris is afraid of you._

She obeyed, opening the command sequence and initiating the comm..  _Thank heavens that we planned for this. "Eleaniris, are you there?"_

There was a pause, then Eleaniris' voice came from Soundwave's voicebox." _Yes. How are you?"_ Megatron's optics softened at the sound of her, as did his posture. Grace was astonished at the effect that Eleaniris had on their conqueror; he seemed to relax at her  _voice_  alone.

Grace noticed this but did not give it a second thought.  _Do I say fine or well? Damn it, I can't remember._

_I can't remember!_

Megatron's optics were narrowing again at her hesitation. On a whim she picked one, " _I'm fine. Where are you?"_

" _That's good. I can't tell you where I am, though it isn't in the palace."_ Grace tensed at Megatron's steadily angering optics. Gone was the relaxation, but his optics were also worried. Concerned even, and was that  _hurt_  gleaming there?

" _Why can't you?"_

" _I don't want him to find me. I can't stand him."_ Eleaniris glanced at Lennox, who was pointing madly at the night forest behind them. She turned and saw a beam of white light sweeping the ground in erratic, unpredictable movements. She was nearly there; she couldn't get caught now! " _Sorry, but I have to go."_

It clicked off and Soundwave retracted his tentacle from the back of her helm and from around her abdomen. Megatron's optics were completely furious, but it was not directed at her or Eleaniris.

It was directed at Soundwave.

" _You_ ," Megatron growled, "I have done everything you have suggested and where has it gotten me?" He stood to his full height, towering over all of them as his optics flashed brightly with fury. The warlord stepped around his desk, walking closer and closer to her mate. "She  _hates_ **and**   _fears_  me. She has run from me and continues to hide, all because I have followed your instruction."

Soundwave backed into a wall, "My Liege, it was not my intention to-"

Megatron roared, his fangs gleaming like the needles from the Cyberformation machine, "Then how else do you explain my Queen's loathing? You have a  _willing_  mate, do you not? Did you use other methods to attract  _her_  attentions?" Megatron pointed at her, bending to snarl at his most loyal officer. "You know what happens to those that lie to me."

The femmes glanced at her, optics big, in a silent question.

* * *

They were sure to be even more silent when they reached the edge of the forest overlooking the Energon plant. Guards patrolled the inside of the fences where they hadn't before, undoubtedly watching for her or Starscream. Her tanks felt empty, more than they had ever felt as Megatron was always sure to keep them full.  _He wanted me dependent on him._

"Stay here, Lennox. If both of us get caught, it will probably be even worse."  _Especially for you._ Noting his unsure expression illuminated in the dim blue light of the factory, Eleaniris said sternly, "That's an order."  _And maybe the last one I ever give._

"Of course. Good luck." Lennox saluted her stiffly, his face grim. She nodded, carefully descending the gentle slope and sticking to the shadows. It was easily done quietly because of the lack of vegetation on the bank and nothing rustled as she scampered to the fence. She couldn't climb it without getting caught, but she might be able to go under it somewhere.

Eleaniris ran down the line of the chain-link, keeping her optics out for guards and holes that she might be able to slither into. She knew that if she could just make it to the shipment outbuildings, where the Energon was boxed and packaged for transport, she could snatch a few cubes and go back to Nation. If the base was still there, that is.

She had a map in her head from when Megatron had toured the place with her just after the poisoning. The offending slaves had already been killed, but he wanted to see the new protocols in action for himself. He was not one to trust others easily, she had noticed.

She darted under the fence line, squeezing and scratching the dirt to make room for herself and careful to avoid catching the cloak on the sharp filaments. All she had left to do was snatch a few cubes, subspace them, and run back out.

* * *

Soundwave was stuck. Telling his Master the reasons for his mate's hate was asking for termination; nothing could be done to change what had already happened. Though Megatron looked murderous and livid with fury, he did not appear to be ready to offline him and so he stayed silent.

Grace, watching Megatron about to beat her mate for something that was not his fault, felt her shyness evaporate like a puddle in the heat of the Sahara. Instead, anger billowed and grew like a sandstorm to take its place.

"How  _dare_  you?" Her mouth said of its own will, before she could even stop it. The massive conqueror whipped his helm around to look at her, Soundwave's look telling her  _No!_ She ignored him, remembering all of the times he had saved her, both when she was human and now that she was a Cybertronian. It was time that she payed him back. Under Megatron's red gaze she almost faltered but recalled what Eleaniris had done every single time in this very position.

"What did you say, femme?" The Emperor's voice was low, quiet, and deep. It held the warning growl of a wolf about to lunge.

"You heard me. You know very well why she ran away." Grace kept her optics on his, knowing that looking away was a sign of submission. Her anger was growing by the second.

"Do I?" Megatron moved away from Soundwave, although just a little.

"Yes, you do. She ran because of you, and you  _dare_  to blame it on Soundwave." Her voice wavered for a moment, and she felt something coming back that she had tried to hide since she was ten years old.

"Enlighten me,  _slave_ , as to why she left because of  **me**." She did not wince, so bright was her fury, at the word that Soundwave never called her.

"She feels powerless, helpless, and defenseless. She used to be such a kind, humorous, positive woman, but now she is a shell of who she was once." Grace let her voice rise in both loudness and accusation, her long-hidden Irish accent emerging with a vengeance; she had tried to hide it upon immigration to the United States and had been successful save for times when she was angry. As a shy, quiet person it was not incredibly common for her to start shouting and therefore her accent stayed dormant. Now, however, it was no longer by the wayside and dominated her tone. "All because of  _you_."

" _Powerless_? She is the mate of an Emperor." Megatron came towards the desk, making the others skitter around to stand behind her. " _Helpless_? She is with me for many of her waking moments.  _Defenseless_?" Megatron chuckled, gesturing to his rather impressive, massive frame, " **I**  am her defendor. Where is your argument, femme?"

"Powerless, because she is the mate of an Emperor who will not listen." Grace crossed her arms and stood tall, "Helpless, because she watches that Emperor torture and kill those of her own species in cruel ways. Defenseless, because there is  _nothing_  that can protect her from him."

Megatron threw back his helm and  _laughed_. "Her  _own_  species? She is a Cybertronian, not a human." Why Eleaniris did not accept this difference was not something he understood, but it was something he believed to be temporary.

Grace stomped her pede, shouting at the warlord, "You are missing the point. Did she ever look  _happy_  when you tortured and killed people in front of her?"

The Decepticon Emperor snarled at her, informing her that she had struck a cord. She went on, "Did she ever cry because of what you did? Did you ever make a promise that you didn't keep? Where does she sleep at night, Megatron? How many choices have you actually  _let_  her  _make_?"

"She ran because you make her feel helpless, powerless, and defenseless. If I were her," Grace sneered, something very ill-fitting of her persona, "I would leave you too. You will  _never_  be her mate." Soundwave made a sound akin to a gasp, and she was vaguely aware of dropped jaws behind her.

Megatron's servos slammed on either side of her, shaking the table almost enough to throw her off her pedes. "It  _will_  be me," he snarled loudly before lowering his voice, "it will  _always_  be me." (DOTM)

"Really? Good luck. She doesn't hate you because of what Soundwave has suggested, in fact any  **one**  of those things would have made her swoon on normal circumstances." Grace almost faltered at the sight of him over her, those optics as red as the blood he had spilled and bathed his servos in.

He raised an optic ridge, "So what I have done would be  _correct_? Then  _why_  does she refuse me?"  _Her belly should be large with my sparkling by now._

"Aren't you the one that defeated her? Don't you come from another world?" Megatron growled in the affirmative.

Thinking that a slight word compromise might make him see from her perspective, Grace said, "Was she not the leader of Earth's former superpower? Do you understand how  _wrong_  this is?"

"She believes that I am taking her as my Queen because she was this planet's foremost leader?" Megatron snorted, "Why would she think that?" Hadn't he told her that if she was a simple frag toy that she would not be given any second thoughts?

"She saw you crumple her tanks like soda cans. Your forces overpowered hers, the strongest military that some would argue was the best that ever walked the Earth, in  _three days_. You crushed her in your fist, squished her beneath your heel. You have shown her that she is  _nothing_  in comparison to you with your complete  **gutting**  of her military." Grace cocked her helm, her voice still acidic and distinctly Irish, "And then you crown her your Queen. It is only  _natural_  for her to believe that she is the last step in your conquering and that she will be cast to the side of the road, like trash, once you have used her."

"I offer her a position at the helm of the Decepticons, who make the universe cower in fear." Megatron still didn't understand, but his tone was still irate. "She will be a Queen, an Empress. It is a great honor."

"Does  _she_  know that? She  _was_  the President of the United States, and  _ **you**_  took  **that**  honor away from her!"  _And she still is._ "You want to have  **children**  with her, don't you? If I were her, I would worry about you  _killing_  them to  **punish**  me for doing something you didn't like!" And there Grace knew she had stepped over a line.

"This has gone far enough." Megatron picked her up in a fist, squeezing just enough to be uncomfortable "If my Empress did not care for you so, I would crush you like the nuisance I believe that you are." His tightened grip reaffirmed the truth of this words and Grace sensed the metal of her body starting to bend painfully, the feeling strangely akin to a finger being pushed back the wrong way.

"However," Megatron's exhaust poured over her and she saw the glossa that Eleaniris had hated so much. It slithered like a silver snake, coated in the clear slime of his mouth. She shuddered at the thought of being pinned and then licked, feeling her spark twist in sympathy for her former employer. "Your insubordination and disrespect cannot go unpunished." His hold slackened and he held her in an open palm, relief washing over her.  _Did he ever squeeze Eleaniris like that? And he wonders why she fears him._

He scooped up the other femmes, distributing them evenly between his servos, "I am confiscating you indefinitely. You will not speak to any of your mates, or even see them outside of your work."

Soundwave spoke up, "Grace did not mean what she said, she does not know better. I request that you reconsider, my lord." To anyone that was not accustomed Soundwave's subtle mannerisms, the tiny clench of his servo would have been easy to miss.

However, Megatron did see it and snarled and pushed past him, ignoring the smaller former gladiator. "She is no longer your concern." He set the femmes down on one of the side tables with projected maps, "You are dismissed and are to inform the others of this decision. Once Eleaniris has been found and accepted her rightful place as  _my_  mate,  _your_  mate will be returned to you."

Soundwave sighed but listened, casting his optics to Grace in a silent farewell before turning to exit. It was not the first time that he had given up his little one to his Master. He had been lucky, so fortunate that Grace had not viewed him as a monster after what had happened in the medbay.

" _Thanks, Ravage." He heard her talking to the panther when he entered his quarters, toting his tribute for her. He had been afraid to face her without it._

_She was on his berth, leaned against the panther that lay curled around her back and his helm lay in her lap. Laserbeak perched on her shoulder, although with some difficulty due to the size difference. Her arms were crossed over her chest in a supportive - not angry - way as she reflected. The library had been closed and was only open exceptional reasons while many of the Decepticons searched for their runaway Queen._

" _Grace?" She looked up at him, her optics so very sad._

" _Soundwave." She was apprehensive, and he considered himself blessed that she was not something worse._

" _I'm sorry that you had to see that." He shuffled nervously and offered the small parcel to her. "I went to your old home and found these. I'm sorry."_

_She accepted it from him and Laserbeak jumped off her shoulder to stand on the berth. Unwrapping the cloth from the book, she allowed her shock to manifest on her faceplates._

" _You found a photo album?" She flicked through the pages, some of them old pictures with her as a young girl. He had carefully picked this reconciliation gift with special consideration. "Thank you. I am amazed that this was still there." She looked up at him, "You didn't have to do this."_

" _I did. You should never have to witness that."_

_Grace smiled ruefully and shook her helm, "I never blamed you for one instant, 'Wave. What Megatron does is what he does." He didn't reply verbally that he agreed with her conclusion._

Megatron ignored the five femmes and commed for one of the guards to escort them to another room. Once they had left, the three that had mates looking upset at his decision, he thought about what Grace had said.

 _Does Eleaniris really think that I would_ _ **offline**_   _our sparklings to punish her? Decepticons always take care of their own, precious. Loyalty to me does not go unrewarded and treachery is not unpunished._

Slag. Now he just wanted to get her back so he could soothe her fears and drench her hate, make her feel as safe and loved as she deserved to be. He wanted to prove that he wasn't the type to hurt younglings, especially their own. Again his processor showed him the image of his little ones cowering beneath the couch, their optics leaking coolant and wide with terror, Eleaniris standing in front of them with her denta bared protectively.

They would be so small, since she would be their Carrier. Probably the size of her drone for at least part of their youth. The thought of  _killing_  one to punish her twisted his spark into a painful knot.  _Could she really think that?_

* * *

She carefully took several of the smaller cubes and placed them in her subspace, thinking that was enough to get her through several more weeks. It was only a guess because she was unfamiliar with her new body, but she didn't want to find out the hard way.

Eleaniris almost stepped out to go back the way she came through the small door in the wall when two of the smaller slave masters emerged. She shrank back into the shadows and listened to their Cybertronian as they walked away. " _If one of us catches her, I want a little fun with that femme before she goes back to him."_ She nearly gagged but settled for biting her glossa instead.

" _Agreed. How about one of us puts her in stasis and then we have some fun? If he asks, we say that she was found that way."_ Eleaniris clenched her jaw,  _Creeps. Morons. Don't you know what Megatron will do to you if you lay a finger on me?_ She almost snarled at the last thought.

" _Yes, I wonder what she looks like under her panel."_

Making sure that they were gone, she went out the door and out into the night.  _If you wanted to catch me, you should have put locks on the doors._ She was then sprinting as quietly as she thought possible, back to the fence and back to safety. She could see Lennox when she got to the chain link, could see the light in his eyes just where she had left him in the brush.  _Come on!_ They seemed to be saying, but it was not in an encouraging way.

It was as if they saw something behind her. She didn't even have time to turn around.

The sound of multiple transformations and the feel of multiple pairs of pedes hitting the ground around her shoved her heart up her throat.  _Where have I felt this before? Oh, right, when he caught me the first time._

Multiple pairs of red optics, not one of which belonged to Megatron, peered down at her through the gloom of the night. A voice that she had hoped to never hear again spoke, "My my, what have we here? Is that you, little Empress, without your mate?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Used a Dark of the Moon quote in here and cited it as (DOTM). Just so you know. Also, I think everyone can infer who has found Elle.
> 
> Tell me how you liked it with a review or PM!


	48. The President's Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Eleaniris eyed Lennox, trying to convey with her optics that he was to stay there. She braced herself to grab her daggers from their sheaths, but made no move so as not to alert Starscream.

"What do you want Starscream?" she yelled up at him, standing from where she had been knocked to the ground by their landing. Her hood had fallen back from her helm, making it feel bare and exposed, but she couldn't move it back up without taking one of her servos away from their place over her knives.

"Energon was my original prize, but you…" he chuckled, red optics gleaming down at her.  _Where in the hell are those guards I saw?_

"Just kill me already. I know that you want to, so stop dragging it out." Eleaniris crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at him. She was tired of being played with, and Starscream would obviously want to crush her to dust because of how she had ratted him out to Megatron.

It wasn't Starscream that answered. She heard metal groaning and grinding behind her, sounds she associated with one of the giants crouching, and a servo pressed quickly against the back of her knees. It swept her up faster than Megatron had ever done, making her squeak embarrassingly as it raised her to his optics. He looked incredibly similar to Starscream, yet the metal body she could see seemed to have a purplish hue to it. "Aww, but why would we do that?" He chortled, "Squeaker, that's no fun."

"What do you want with me then? And who are you?" A quick glance told her that Lennox hadn't moved, but was listening intently.

The being holding her smirked, revealing his denta, "My designation is Skywarp." One of his fingers brushed her back roughly, making her squeak again. "And I think I'll call you Squeaker."

"My name is  _Eleaniris_ ," she snapped only for him to chuck her under her chin. If she was human the movement would have killed her, but as it was it jerked her helm back and she cried out at the sharp pain.

His face immediately became concerned and his digit rose again to stroke her with a tad more gentleness, "Ssshhh, you're okay."

"Hand her here, now." Starscream demanded, plucking her roughly out of Skywarp's palm. "You'll break her." In that moment she felt very much like a coveted toy, not a sentient being.

Skywarp frowned and drooped a little, "Awww, but Screamer-"

" **Don't**  call me that." He pushed her against his chassis, looking down and softening his voice, "You'll be coming with us, my dear mate."

" **Mate**?" She snapped, her jaw open in mortification as she peered up at him.  _Not again. I can't do this._

"Yes." The third, formerly silent robot said, his helm cocked as he watched her with intrigued optics. Whereas Skywarp's metal had a purple tone, his was a cool blue. "I am Thundercracker, Eleaniris."

 _I_ _ **just**_   _escaped an unwanted mate, I can't do this right now!_ She grabbed her knives, one in each servo, and tried to find a crevice in Starscream's armor. If it went off and called Megatron she could deal with that later. His other servo simply flicked hers, making her drop them in pain from the forceful jolt. They clanked against his body on their way down before hitting the dirt with a dull thud. It sounded much louder in her panicked, fearful mind, like the clang of funeral bells being dropped to a concrete slab.  _Keep your bow hidden._

"You will regret that." Starscream growled, his red optics narrowed to slits. She froze, not wanting to anger him further.

"I'm sorry," she said lowly, weighing her options.  _You could always just comm. Megatron,_ a silky voice suggested,  _he will save you._ Another voice interrupted,  _Yeah, he'll save me alright. Asking for him to rescue me is just another slap to the face, and not to mention it's like asking a Grizzly to kill the rattlesnake; he'll just take me for himself again._

The first came back,  _But will that be so bad? You know you liked it when he licked you, no matter how much you deny it. It was so warm, so gentle, tender and_ _ **hungry**_   _when it lapped at your- Cut it out,_ the second said,  _You know you can't do that. How many times have you called out for him to save you?_

So it was decided. Out of whatever scanty pride she had left, she would not beg for him to rescue her. Eleaniris would not ask him - the monster that she watched destroy skyscrapers with a single blast of his cannon, crumple tanks with a single fist, withstand a flurry of bullets without a single flinch - for his help. He was her enemy, not her savior.

_If he had never come here in the first place to find that stupid cube, none of this would be happening right now. My sister would still be alive and there would be no need for me to be the Mockingjay. I would still be human, a powerful President, and not the sick rag doll of some alien conqueror._

_I would not be his Slave Queen. I wouldn't be "his"_ _**anything** _ _._

"Do not repeat such an action again." Sure enough, his optics held that silent warning that Megatron's had. His helm jerked up, looking at the lines of guards that had finally taken notice. They were approaching rapidly and Eleaniris shrunk back, wanting to avoid being caught by those drones that she had overheard.

And Megatron, of course.

"Skywarp, take her. Go back to the base." Skywarp, eager to accept her again, wrapped his digits around her too tightly and made her gasp.  _Why did you give me back?_

"Sssshhh." He soothed in a rather rough way, sliding apart his chest plates to open his cockpit, "It's okay little Squeaker, Skywarp's got you."

He put her inside and the plates clicked shut, leaving her in the dark to wonder if she had made the right choice.  _Stay safe, Lennox. You heard that whole discussion, go and tell Nation._

" **Hold on, Squeaker!"**  Skywarp's voice seemed to come from everywhere around her, the deep tones making the metal vibrate. She tried to follow his advice, but the dark interior was all slick metal and provided her with no handholds.

Suddenly a ripping sound permeated her audios, corresponding with a crushing feeling around her body. It felt like the times when she had held her breath too long, the pain in her chest making it feel tight. Just as she thought that her processor would be squished out of her like toothpaste from the tube, the feeling stopped and left her dizzy and disoriented.

" **Teleportation, Squeaker! Isn't it cool?"** _Figures._ Still feeling sick, she proceeded to retch up the Energon in her tanks all over the inside of his compartment. His chest plates opened, light pouring in, and he fished her out into an open servo, looking from her to inside him with disgust.

He snarled, his face one of absolute anger, "What did you do, you little-" He raised his servo to hit her and she cringed automatically at the movement. She shuttered her optics tightly and curled into a ball in his palm, trying feebly to avoid being slapped. The force of it would kill her, no doubt. Decepticons, and especially Skywarp from what she had experienced, didn't seem to know their own strengths.

Something akin to a sigh came from the giant holding her. Hesitantly she onlined her optics and peeked at him timidly.  _Presidents aren't supposed to be timid._ His expression had slackened into one of forlorn remembrance, his helm cocked to the side and watching her with doleful optics.

"He hit you, didn't he?" His voice was quiet as could be for a huge robot, the question betraying his knowledge and experience of similar events before her time as a Cybertronian. Skywarp didn't have to clarify who "he" was.

 _No, "he" didn't. That is one thing he never did to me. But out of frustration he did squeeze me within an inch of my life a few times._ Wordlessly, she nodded slowly.  _He abused me, whether it was with unwanted attention or showing me scenes that he knew had a chance of breaking me, but never did he hit me._

The Seeker seemed to have forgotten about the Energon in his cockpit and pressed her close to his cheek, "He did that to me a few times, little Squeaker. You don't have to be afraid of me, I won't touch you like he did." His newfound gentleness spoke louder than his booming voice could ever of past suffering and painful memory.  _This can't be real though, can it? They are_ _ **Decept**_ _icons. I can't trust him._

Skywarp, though, had been sent to the medbay a few times by the leader he had tried to serve well. Sure he wanted to have his pranks and he wanted to destroy things, but what Decepticon soldier didn't? The thought of her being hurt by his former Supreme Commander touched him; she was the smallest femme he had ever seen. He had never been able to hold one in the center of a single servo like he could her, she was just so tiny! In his optics she was a Decepticon femme, a mate that was supposed to be protected and not injured.

Unless it was in the berth.

From what he could remember of the earlier days of the war when some of the Decepticons had mates, it wasn't rare for the submissives - the femmes - to be in the medbay after a passionate night of 'facing with their partners. Decepticons did not tolerate the weak and believed in the rule of the strong, but this had been different with those that could bear sparklings. It was common knowledge that injured femmes - or mechs, but as the Decepticons were domineering creatures they would take femmes as mates more frequently - could not carry as well and the likelihood of having a healthy, strong sparkling went down the more they were abused.

Every Decepticon pair wanted robust future warriors and so those that hit and injured Carriers knew they ran the risk of having their spark ripped out for disloyalty and treason, sometimes by Megatron himself. " _The Decepticon cause will not be marred by weakness,"_ he remembered Megatron declaring, " _Carriers will be left alone to bring about the next generation of power and domination. I will not have weaklings borne into my ranks."_ To Skywarp's slow processor it made sense. Fortunately for Eleaniris, his "slow processor" did not question why Megatron would go against his prohibition of injuring Carriers to hit his own mate.

He had also promised himself that, given the chance, he would give his Master several strong warriors.

And his opportunity was sitting in his palm, albeit now the sparklings would be for Starscream and not Megatron. He still had miniscule loyalty for his lord but his trine had pulled him to rebellion. Starscream had convinced them that they were better off without Megatron as their leader, and that he should be the Decepticon Supreme Commander. Skywarp felt very much in the middle.

Starscream had promised that their trine would share the Empress, making sure that she got all of the "attention" she needed from not one mate, but  _three_. Of course, Starscream made clear that he would interface with her first, but Skywarp too wanted her and would be next in line to ravish her.

"I'll clean your compartment out if you want," she offered quietly in an attempt to change the subject and placate whatever anger may be left, "I don't get motion sickness often."

He smirked at her tribute, the moment passing away. His playful tone was back, "Let's get you some rags then, Squeaker." Eleaniris growled at the name but took the chance to survey wherever it was they had popped up as he set her on his shoulder. They looked to be in a warehouse/concrete building of some sort, though there were no windows. Flickering fluorescent lights lit the huge room where they were walking in lieu of any sort of natural light. Other winged Decepticons watched them move through, but did not stop them and stayed where they were.

Her tanks were empty now, whatever had been in them now resided in Skywarp's chest. Wordlessly she unsubspaced a stolen cube, opened it and raised it to her lips. She drank it as quickly as she could, seeing his questioning look.

"Where did you get that, Squeaker?" She finished and wiped her mouth with the back of a servo.  _Could it be that he isn't that bright? Could I be that lucky again?_

"The plant." She dutifully answered and he looked impressed, though he made no reply.  _Great, you probably just volunteered to go on more raids for them. Fantastic._

The next chamber they entered, where Skywarp pulled some dirty torn cloths out of a bin, made her realize with a start where she was.  _Fate's just sick sometimes._

* * *

Lennox watched from the shadows as the one with his President, Skywarp, suddenly vanished into thin air. The other two, Thundercracker and Starscream, leaped into the sky and transformed into two F-22s. Their jets turned on with a bright flare of blue light and then they were gone. The patrols that had been moving towards them suddenly stopped, talking amongst themselves. Only a few seconds later they were striding back the way they had come, leaving him in the strange quiet on the outskirts of the Energon plant.

Making sure that they were gone, he went to the place Eleaniris' daggers had fallen. Careful not to turn the handles on either of them, he quickly sprinted back into the forest to watch what happened. In the meantime, while he hid the daggers in his small pack, he thought about what he had seen their conqueror do earlier.  _Why did he save that girl? Why did he go out of his way?_

All he had ever seen that alien do was kill and enslave, and he was sure that the missing Nation spies and messengers were tortured under his claws. They were lucky that none had broken thus far, but Lennox was almost completely sure that they were dead. By all of these rules, with everything he had heard of that monster doing from Wilson, he should not have cared about the slave at all.

But he had, and one had to wonder  _why_. Eleaniris had explained that some time ago she had asked for him to do something about the children, and though he misled her about their freedom from the forced labor, he had helped them. As one of the rescuers that went on liberation missions into the several slave camps to move children, he had noticed that all of them were no longer scattered across the buildings. They had been moved, the youngest with their mothers, to a select group of buildings. He had also noticed fewer and fewer whip marks on them.

Had that monster done it because Eleaniris asked him to? Could it really be that simple? Could she really hold that much power over him? Was it possible that he actually  _cared_  what she thought like any normal, non-psychopathic person would? To an extent he seemed to, but every time she had asked for human liberation he had not granted  _those_  requests. What made the children different?

He just couldn't wrap his head around the idea that the monster that had ordered the end of an estimated billion human beings and the enslavement of the remainder, prefered to torture and kill for recreation, and indiscriminately crushed humans under his feet could actually  _want_  her  _affection_. It couldn't be that simple, could it?

_Unless he wants to have children with her, but that it totally out of the question. He's disgusted with humans, why would he want her to, well, do it however it is that they do it? That doesn't make any sense._

_It also no longer makes sense that he wants her only as a sex slave. He wouldn't go through all of this trouble for one, replaceable human._

He stayed for what felt like 20 minutes, long enough for their hunter to arrive based on how quickly he had responded earlier to the base. However, once it seemed that he was not going to make an appearance, the Captain left the edge of the forest and decided that he had no choice but to return to Nation to report what he saw.  _Mate,_ one of them had said, and Lennox had not liked the sound of that.

* * *

Lord Megatron sat at his desk, unmoving since the femmes had been relocated to a separate room. He anticipated that their mates would not be happy about his choice, but expected that that vexation might be channeled into finding Eleaniris faster.

Yet one had to wonder why she had run away in the first place. Grace's words had made him think that Eleaniris was just scared of him and that was why she left. Why else would she think that he would offline their future sparklings to punish her? Perhaps she "hated" him because he was incredibly overwhelming for one so small. Maybe she hated the situation, not him, but this manifested in her terrified processor as loathing of him.

Yes, this made sense; he was Megatron after all, and quite the presence to get accustomed to. He was aware of his domineering and imposing size and strength and that these things were too much for even some  _mechs_  to take. She was just so small that it must be so much worse for her. The thought of the strength of trepidation and sheer terror that he unintentionally instilled in her made his spark twist painfully in its chamber.

The purpose of his upgrades was to make her feel safe, not more insecure. She was supposed to feel powerful in his servos, like they were the safest place in the  _universe_  for her to be.

Instead he had involuntarily made her more fearful of him. She was lashing out like a trapped animal, trying to injure him with her sharp words over her comm. link. He hated that she was so afraid that she would do that, that some of her phrases about honor had pierced his tough battle armor.  _You could always crush her vocalizer,_ the well-known voice of his twisted conscience told him,  _like you did that wretched Autobot scout. It will be so easy, only a single pinch from your claws around her throat will do._

_All you have to do is squeeze, and never again will she lecture you about honor. She will be silent forever, the perfect subservient Queen._

The Emperor of Destruction drew a hard line,  _No._ He wanted her to retain her voice in the hopes that someday she might sing to their sparklings, might sing to  _him_  like Grace did so freely with Soundwave. He had caught her singing a few times in the bath when she thought that he wasn't there, and she had the most  _beautiful_  voice.  _You should have a painting of that,_ his processor suggested of the memory. He accepted, typing out a curt reminder for himself on the translucent display of his desk.

Besides, he wanted her to raise them and how would that be done without a proper vocalizer? Especially, when his sparklings had matured into younglings and beyond, what would he say about their voiceless Carrier? He would spare her ability to speak.

He groaned and placed his helm in his servos, finally tearing his optics away from the lone painting on his office wall. The only solution that he could think of was her recapture and then spending more time with her at her own size level. He  _always_  had multiple solutions, being the brilliant strategist he was, but this time he didn't know how else it could be fixed.

A notification beeped on the display on his desk, red light signalling a pending comm. link. With an irritated sigh he accepted, wondering halfheartedly if it had something to do with Eleaniris.

"My lord, there have been several more arrivals in the coordinates attached. It is unknown if they are of Decepticon or Autobot origin." There was no video included in the link, but Megatron could still hear the normal anxiousness characteristic of his subordinates. He gave a curt reply, downloaded the coordinates, and hung up to leave his office and thoughts of Eleaniris behind him.

The warlord was back on the warpath, hungry and bloodthirsty as always. This situation of war and victory he could handle, its familiarity comforting. His fusion cannon mounted on his arm, he grinned darkly at the thought of a few Autobot helms to show Eleaniris when he caught her again.

Hopefully the show of his strength would impress her, not scare her as his raw power had before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Skywarp is true to character. I think so, but I'm not really sure.
> 
> Also I've got a question for my loyal reviewers...Is this story bittersweet enough? Eleaniris is supposed to be on an emotional rollercoaster, but I don't know if that is coming across strongly. Is there enough pain in here, enough suffering as bad as that sounds? Any responses are appreciated.
> 
> Shoot me a review please!


	49. The Chupacabra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. 
> 
> *The Decepticon Justice Division and the List is a part of IDW's continuity, and is not a figment of my creativity. For those unfamiliar with them, think of them as the Gestapo. 
> 
> Warning for suggestive elements.

Unfortunately for the battle-hungry Megatron, it was no Autobot that had crashed in the derelict human city of Norfolk.

He stood on the edge of the still-smoldering crater, arms crossed over his massive chest as he stared downwards into the pit. Multiple nameless subordinates stood behind him with their weapons at the ready. It was dark, the only source of light coming from their own optics and the moon above.

Even if he had not seen the mech yet, he knew that it was no Autobot. A dismayed, familiar screech of " _My finish!"_  told him so.

Pursing his lip components into a firm line he made no move to help the Decepticon medic out of hole. The warlord was perturbed that he had been called for this, since he would rather be searching for his injured Queen, but it did present some opportunities.

Megatron stood tall and unmoving as the smaller mech scrabbled out, throwing burnt dirt aside and finally coming to the top. " _Lord Megatron, I see that you have been busy."_  He was trying to compensate via flattery, not unlike the Seeker who this mech would often get into fights with.

" _Knockout."_  His Cybertronian was flat and thoroughly unimpressed. " _I am pleased to see that you have finally rejoined your comrades."_ Megatron placed special emphasis on the "finally," making Knockout wince. " _I was considering placing you on the List."*_

He watched him silently, taking the chance to make the medic squirm a little. He wasn't even thinking about it, but moments to inspire a little fear into his followers were seldom passed, especially when his special enforcers were involved.

Megatron was glad, for the most part, that his Queen had yet to see or even hear of his Decepticon Justice Division; if she was scared of him already, he didn't want to imagine what the knowledge of the D.J.D. would do to her. Unless, of course, it made her run to  _him_  for comfort and safety, made her hide behind one of his pedes or stand between his towering legs in her need to feel secure. He warmed at the thought of cradling her to his cheek, reassuring that she would  _never_  be placed on the List, no matter how much she frustrated him. Their leader, Tarn, wasn't going to get even  _remotely_  near her  _or_  their sparklings. Besides, the borderline insane mech was not present on Earth and stayed in space only to make sure that Starscream did not try to leave the system.

Megatron wanted to kill that traitor himself, and had told the D.J.D. to step aside on his occasion.

Believing that his point had been made, Megatron clasped his servos behind him and went on, " _Your assistance is needed."_  He turned and walked through the soldiers, who hurriedly jumped aside to clear a path for the tyrant.

Relieved that he had escaped his lord's legendary wrath and that of the infamous D.J.D., the medic followed at a respectful distance. " _Might there be any particulars, my liege?"_

Megatron pondered this for a moment, remembering how skittish his Queen was around the insidious Scalpel. She didn't trust the spider-like bot at all, and neither did he. Distrust for a medic would not do when the time came for her to deliver his sparklings, or when his sparklings needed to be checked over. Knockout, as annoying as he could be, was more trustworthy than the Doctor. A concern for the size difference between his mate and their personal medic was immediately dismissed; a subspace mass distributor could be made relatively easily.

" _Yes, I have a position in mind."_ He stopped and turned to face the medic once again, studying him. " _During your absence I took a Queen, one capable of carrying my sparklings. A proper medic will do to assist her in birth."_

Knockout's helm recoiled a bit, as it did often when he was surprised. Never had he reflected on his Master taking a Queen, believing that Megatron was simply too  _preoccupied_  with their war to choose and impregnate a mate. Now that the Autobots seemed to have vanished and he had started his Empire, however, he supposed that it would make sense for his lord to want to reproduce.

" _A femme, my liege? Wherever did you find one of those?"_ At his inquiry Megatron smirked.

" _The Allspark was used to convert one of the human females into one of us."_ His leader was overwhelmingly smug and rightfully so; such a development this was! If Megatron had taken a human female as a mate, that set a precedent for the rest of his Decepticons to follow suit. He passively wondered if he might be rewarded someday with a mate of his own - and the fact that she would be so small would only be a bonus.  _She could polish all of those hard-to-reach crevices in my armor, but interfacing might be problematic._

" _Why one of the humans, Lord Megatron? Are they not vile, disgusting, squishy, tiny animals?"_ Knockout was also puzzled at this choice; it was very unlike the Supreme Commander to involve himself with lesser species other than slaughtering them.

Megatron chuckled and agreed, looking upwards at the moon, " _Yes, they are, but not this one."_ The lust was practically emanating off of the robust form of the Emperor of Destruction, a smirk on his faceplates at the thought of his mate.

To Knockout it was simply a miracle that she had even  _survived_  interface with the overlarge - even by Cybertronian standards - mech before him, presuming they had figured out how mate, of course. If they hadn't the poor femme had quite the experience coming her way. None could compare to his leader, whether on the battlefield or in the berth. The few times he had witnessed evidence of his lord fulfilling his  _urges_  - there were rumors that Megatron had a dead sparkmate he was keen on resurrecting, one that he was fiercely loyal to and that was why it was not often - had seen poor pleasurebots thrown on the berths of his medical bay. They were often ripped and torn beyond repair, and some had offlined on those berths.

Pit, some were  _already_  dead when Megatron brought them in.

" _She was one of their leaders,"_ Megatron growled deeply.  _That explains some of it,_ Knockout admitted to himself. The Supreme Commander was not one to be denied what he desired nor was he a mech that didn't enjoy the Complete Conquer; and what was more complete than taking the enemy's commander to one's berth?

The former gladiator chuckled and shook his helm to clear it of some unknown memory before turning to look back at his new personal medic. " _Regardless, I must continue searching for my escaped Queen. Report to the palace at these coordinates and speak with Soundwave about replacing Scalpel. Review her medical history as well."_

 _Continue_ _ **searching**_ _?_ It was Knockout's turn to shake his helm, thinking about the fate that femme would face when she was recaptured by her mate. How she had escaped in the first place was not something he cared to devote his processor to. As Megatron transformed and took off with clicking of gears and a boom of his jets he couldn't help but internally comment,  _She's going to get a hard frag when she gets back. If she is large enough for him to spike, that is._

Nevertheless, the diva turned his attention to finding a more suitable alternative mode with Earth's internet. Something red to compliment his optics would do nicely and it would be a fresh look for him on this new planet. He could get the rest of the story about this mysterious Queen later - he was not a known as a gossip for nothing.

He also needed to inform his liege of the message he had received.

* * *

The Hoover Dam. Where else would they hide? Eleaniris couldn't possibly forget the room where she had first seen Megatron's -  _rather handsome, actually_  - face over the security footage, his red optics blazing into her grey eyes as if there was no screen between them. Their first contact, even if he hadn't known at the moment that she was watching him, had been so intimate and  _real_ , his gaze burning through her eyes and into her very soul. Her heart had pounded in her ears, but she still had been able to hear his announcement after a thousand years of silence -  _in a deep, rather sexy voice,_  she loathed to admit - " _I am Megatron!"_

The large chamber still bore the marks of his rampage, though most of the damaged beams he had ripped apart like paper had been pushed against one wall. Wires hung down like technological vines, cut haphazardly from when he had broken out of his prison, and most of the lights were not working. Skywarp finished selecting the rags from the bin at the side and headed towards another tunnel.

Eleaniris remembered the Sector Seven folder given to her on the day of the Invasion which stated that it was built to hide NBE-1's - Megatron's - energy from the outside world. She surmised that the concrete would block signals, and inquisitively she tried her comm. link. The correct command logs opened when she tried Grace, but nothing came through. She half-expected a dial tone to match the lack of signal.

That meant that even if her pride did go through and she caved in, she wouldn't be able to contact him. She supposed that she could try to speak to Borealis, since their link seemed to be telepathic, but how would the gryphon tell Megatron? As far as she knew she was the sole person - or bot - that Borealis could communicate with via the mind. It was worth a shot.

' _Borealis_ ,' Eleaniris concentrated but tried not to look too suspicious to the mech whose shoulder she was sitting on. ' _Are you there?'_

There was a small pause in which her chest felt tight in apprehension before the silky smooth voice echoed, ' _Yes, mistress? Wheelie and I have missed you.'_ The tension released at the intonation in her processor.

' _Do you have the ability to communicate with others like you do with me?'_ The darker end of the tunnel was fast approaching and she had to hurry her mental conversation.

' _Only if Soundwave establishes other connections.'_

' _So no?'_ Eleaniris almost sighed but stifled it at the last instant.

' _No.'_ The gryphon sounded unsure of whether to be pleased or regretful with this conclusion.

' _Thank you Borealis. Is Wheelie alright?'_

' _Since Starscream came looking for you, he's been very skittish. Especially around your m- Megatron.'_ This was said matter-of-factly, but it came as a surprise to Eleaniris.

' _He was looking for me? When?'_ The passageway was almost over, and her time was slipping away.

' _The night you left he came.'_ Eleaniris remembered hearing shouts and the booms of alien gunfire as she ran, and it must have been a confrontation of sorts between the guards and Starscream. ' _It was not long between your departure and his arrival.'_ So she had barely avoided it the first time only to fall into his servos in the end.

Should she tell the gryphon about where she was? Would that be wise? If for some reason Megatron decided to forge a connection with Borealis, he would know her location - if Starscream didn't move often, but the established looks of the base and its cloaking capabilities made this unlikely.

She wasn't ready to tell her just yet. ' _Don't let Megatron know that I have spoken with you. I have to go.'_

Borealis didn't reply as Skywarp exited the tunnel. In the dim light she could see that they were outside now, standing in the gorge where the water continued on its way to Mexico. Before them was the massive wall of the dam, standing tall and dark underneath the beautiful night sky. Without warning he plucked her up from his shoulder - with more gentleness than he had prior - and proceeded to fly over the towering dam.

He landed smoothly on the other side on the rocky bank no more than ten seconds later, where he set the shellshocked Eleaniris and the cloth scraps down by shore of the water. She looked at him as if he was crazy and he chuckled down at her, red optics gleaming in the night. "You're still pretty dirty, little one. Why don't we clean up together?"

It was rhetorical evidently, since he pushed her into the water with a single finger. She fell back with a splash and scrabbled for standing on the uneven bottom, eventually rising and spitting water out of her mouth. Her cloak was soaked again and she slipped it off to throw it on the bank. Skywarp chuckled again, " _Shhh_. Don't make so much noise, Squeaker." While she bristled at his mocking tone, he picked her up again and climbed into the water himself.

He stopped when the water reached his waist and clutched her to his chassis, smirking down at her. "Why were you all covered in mud? You're not very pretty like that, little femme." She pursed her lips at "little," though unsure if he was being condescending on purpose or just being an idiot.

Skywarp sighed at her lack of reply and crouched, submerging her body - but not her helm - in the dark water and briskly running the rags over her, washing away the dirt and evidence of her travel. She wished that she could have washed herself and said "I can do this on my own, you know."

The Seeker smirked, showing off sharp denta, "But I like doing it. You're  _so cute_." He sounded as if he was talking to a cute puppy, not a sentient being.

Forgetting all about her changed body, she growled and swatted at the rags angrily, "I'm a  _human being_ , not a dog."

"You  _were_  a human being," he grinned, chucking her under her chin again. Though the movement still forced her helm back with a snap, it was a little more gentle than it had been previously. "Besides, humans aren't people."

"They are  _to_ ," she snapped, tired of aliens that didn't seem to comprehend the definition of sentience, "just like you."

"But they're too small, weak and squishy to be people." Skywarp ignored her protests and continued to wash her, rinsing out the rags every so often. Adopting a reflective expression, he mused, "They'd probably make good pets."

She snarled, "What is with you aliens? You think that you can do whatever you want with us because we're smaller than you, and I'm sick of it."

Skywarp's faceplates rearranged to convey his confusion, "But we can. We're superior, and they are  _lucky_  to have us around to give them purpose."  _They_ _ **already**_ _had purpose, you overgrown bucket of circuitry._

Eleaniris slumped in his servo and groaned, letting him wash her metal. " _There's no use in arguing with idiots,"_ her mother had said.  _What would she say if she saw me now, a plaything of alien invaders?_ She stamped out that thought.

But something in his face revealed to her something about his person. The way he seemed to not question anything was different than the manner Megatron did when they argued. Whereas Megatron knew what he knew because he was set in his ways and thought the facts supported it, Skywarp believed because that was what he was told. The confusion on his face was enough to tell her this.  _He's just a metal sheep._

It was also enough to put a devilish grin on her own, shrouded thinly by mock-fear and glances at the surrounding desert. "We'd better hurry, Skywarp." The urge to laugh at her pending joke was so strong that she had to fight uphill to keep her composure.

He looked around, following her gaze and scanning the hills. "Why? It is dark enough that we should not be spotted, and I will hear upcoming patrols." His scrubbing stopped, to her relief. It was starting to hurt, and if she was human her skin would probably be gone.  _Actually, if you were human he would have killed you the first time he chucked you under your chin. Probably would have snapped your neck or given you severe whiplash._

"Do you know why so few humans live in the desert?" Eleaniris almost giggled.  _This will be the test to see how gullible he is._

"No."  _Really? You don't know humans need water to live. Ah, well, you're as ignorant about us as we were about you I suppose._

She gestured for him to raise her to his face, and when he did so the water ran off of her clean body in little streams that splashed in the pool below. Placing a servo on his chassis to steady herself, she leaned forward to whisper ominously in his audio, "It's because of the Chupacabras."

Skywarp sounded a little worried and his optics flicked around their surroundings, "Chupacabras?"

She altered the original story, so very  _badly_  wanting to chuckle, "Chupacabras come out at night looking for blood. They like human blood especially, but Megatron told me that they have developed a taste for Energon now too."

Despite his "better" judgement, Skywarp believed her. She sounded so afraid, so nervous, that it was impossible not to. For Primus' sake, she was even shaking in his servo! He crooned quietly down at his new mate, "I'll protect you, little Squeaker. You don't have to worry." If only he knew that it was laughter and not fear that was making her tremble.

This appeared to do nothing to quell her "trepidation," and her small wide optics stared into his large ones, "But they're as big as a house! And you don't see them coming until it's too late."

Upon hearing this Skywarp's faceplates registered a little fear. Deciding to push before he overcame it, she added "They have such sharp fangs too, and they'll drain you in seconds!"

He only lowered her to his open chest, implying that she was to get in. As she crawled into the dark space the metal vibrated with his voice, " **Just clean up your mess, Squeaker."** He was trying to sound unperturbed, but there was a slight quaver in his deep vocalization on "Squeaker." The rags tumbled in after her, and she snatched them up to rush through her cleaning.

Not much Energon had been left in her tanks when she had regurgitated, so thankfully she didn't have to mop up a ton of it with the un-absorbent, seemingly threadbare rags. Using the cloth she pushed the puddle to the edge of his compartment and proceeded to wipe it off over the edge. When she was finished with the majority of it, she went back through and detailed the metal.

Little did she know that her strokes had aroused the Seeker, the gentle passes of the cloth in his cockpit making him warm in the processor and interface components.  _Now I see why Megatron liked you, sweet little Squeaker._ His cooling fans had clicked on, albeit at a slow pace, yet it was no easy feat to watch the hills for this mysterious Chupacabra.

He plucked her out when she was finished, inspecting himself and looking over her work. "Very good!" he praised, liking the little smile that came to her lip components.  _So_ _ **cute**_ _!_ Unfortunately nothing could be done about his pressurized spike; Starscream was likely still a distance away, and Skywarp did not want to face the consequences if he interfaced with her before the former Second-in-Command could.

He wondered if it was even possible for her to take him. She was just so tiny, he might kill her if he tried. Curious but wary of Chupacabras, he exited the water and grabbed her cloak to go back into the base. He loved flying, but he wished that teleportation was possible inside of the dam. Unfortunately, do to the natural interference with comm. links from the thickness of the concrete, Starscream had forbade the use of his gift.

He hurried to his quarters, where he had made special preparations for the arrival of the Empress. He had wanted her to be comfortable so that she might bear stronger sparklings. Though he could not speak for the others of his trine, upon planning of the palace raid Skywarp had resolved that their mate should not be uncomfortable before she was spiked.

Eleaniris watched passively, not sure what to expect when he pushed aside the large bay doors. What greeted her was a decent room with better lighting, ceilings high enough for Skywarp to walk in, furnished sparsely with a makeshift berth in a corner and something resembling a desk next to it.  _He doesn't seem the type that would use that though._ On the desk, however, laid something she hadn't been expecting.

"I made it just for you, little Squeaker." He placed her and her soaked cloak in front of the car with his characteristic roughness.  _Megatron was never like that,_ she thought before scowling at her processor.

"It's…" The top of the sedan had been removed completely, leaving the inside open to whomever wanted access. He nudged - more like shoved - her toward it, encouraging her inspection. Eleaniris studied the stripped interior, where a rather large, plush pile of blankets, sheets and pillows had taken the place of the seats and console. On the top of the disorganized lump sat a small fox plushie, a little dirty and grey where white should have been.

"Nice." She finished her thought with composure, only to lose that control when she squeaked as he scooped her up.

"Do you like it? I picked this out just for you." He indicated the stuffed animal with an enormous finger, genuinely concerned about her opinion. "I thought that you might like something cuddly, for when I can't be with you."

 _Humor him._ "Yes," she smiled falsely, wondering if he had stolen that toy from some poor child, "I never expected it."

 _Did he just say what I thought he did?_ In the better lighting of the room, she could see his frame and her processor wanted to recognize it from  _somewhere_.

He grinned proudly, his optics watching her every move in his palm. "But I'm here now, little Squeaker, so let's lie down while we wait for Starscream and Thundercracker to get back." Skywarp did just that, going to his berth and setting her on his wide chassis.

She was pinned roughly with a heavy servo, suddenly reminded of how much more gentle Megatron had been with her.

* * *

Kimora sighed, turning in the berth for the millionth time. Everyone else was already in recharge, but her brain - processor, whatever - was still thinking about what had just happened.  _So I really can't talk to Bonecrusher anymore?_

She hadn't seen him as much as the other femmes did their mechs, since they had their own mates living in the palace, but she still liked him. Her time in the slave camps before being taken as a lab rat had told her that all of the Decepticons were downright monsters, doing and taking what they please because they wanted to. They had taken her old life, her humanity because it suited them. She didn't know what had happened to her family, but reflection upon it could only bring more pain. Her mother hadn't been in the best health before the Invasion, and everyone knew that those that the Decepticons deemed unfit met their end with a single shot through their heads.

They didn't even get the chance to scream. They were just culled like useless cattle.

Bonecrusher was the head of the largest of the circuits of slave camps, overseeing the work that the Asian continent was doing to serve Earth's new Master. He was, admittedly, misshapen and twisted in both mind and body. He always seemed to hate everything, this she had learned the first time she had met him. Sure, he had picked her up at Eleaniris' Coronation and laid one on her without any time for her to speak, but that could not be considered a true introduction.

_Why the information in the library could not be accessed remotely was beyond Kimora's understanding. She saw no reason for such technologically-advanced robots to have to physically be in the library to obtain information, but working here was better than being someone's sex slave. Megatron could very easily have made her into one, if Eleaniris hadn't intervened. It was obvious that he wanted to please her, but none of that would win the stubborn President over. If she could give her opinion, she would say that Eleaniris was being ungrateful. Not everyone got to have an Emperor chase them like that._

_Regardless, her opinion was not going to help the distraught Empress._

_She was making the rounds, making it clear that she was available to serve, when a large mech entered the doors. She stood taller and assumed her smile, walking towards him to greet him properly. He did anything_ _ **but**_   _return her friendliness._

" _What are you staring at?" He snapped, his frame hunched over in a way that told her it was natural._

" _N-nothing," she managed to get out, taken aback by his mannerisms. All of the mechs that had come in prior to this where overly friendly with her, obviously trying to get her attention and get around Megatron's rule. "I was just-"_

_He crouched abruptly and snarled, the closer look at his mouth making her remember who he was. "Bonecrusher, it's me." She was trying to get him to calm down, putting her servos up in a submissive gesture and stepping back. Displays of submission always seemed to work on the Decepticons, like it did in a pack of wolves._

" _I know I'm ugly, so stop_ _ **staring**_ _!" His fangs gleamed and she looked down, cowering into a shelf._

" _You're not ugly," she murmured, his hot exhaust hitting her metal. He was too big, if she angered him further...bye bye Kimora. In truth, he just looked different from everyone else she had seen._

_Bonecrusher backed away and stood tall over her, casting a dark shadow and peering down at her with red optics. "Just get me what I need."_

_She hurried to fulfill his commands, hoping that he would never come back and she wouldn't have to deal with his temper and hatred. She already had enough to carry on her shoulders._ How Eleaniris manages, I'll never know.

_Her wish was not granted, however, when he came back to return what he had taken out. He was still gruff, but a little less rude. His visits assumed a regular schedule, each time he was a little more polite and acted with a little less loathing._

_One day she was cleaning up and rechecking all of the inventory, looking forward to going to bed, when she saw something set atop one of the tables in the center. With some effort she climbed up, not sure what to think of the large bouquet of purple Bull Thistle that sat there._

Kimora smiled at the memory of how clueless their invaders were. They really had proven themselves to be aliens with their strange variations of courtship. Bonecrusher must have figured out that not just any flower was acceptable, because he started bringing her peonies, orchids, camellias and others native to the Asian continent. Gradually he had come to warm up around her, even revealing that the main source of his hate was his appearance.

 _Bonecrusher was tickling her in the otherwise empty library, smirking down at her in his own way. "Stop!" she begged, her cooling fans running on high._ Who knew metal could be ticklish?

_He payed no heed to her begging, kneeling so that he could pin her better to the floor. His grin fell and she knew she made a mistake when she laughed and shouted, "I said let go, you ogre!" She had meant for it to be affectionate, but he obviously didn't take it that way. Her smile fell from her face when Bonecrusher turned away from her abruptly, walking away through the shelves and leaving her. "Where are you going? I thought that we-"_

" _There is no "we," Kims." He kept on his way, not stopping to glance at her sprinting body. "You can't possibly care about someone as ugly as me."_ So that's what this is about.

_She stopped, her face darkening. "Bonecrusher! You get you cute metal butt back here." She pointed her finger down at her pedes, indicating that he was to come back to stand before her. Hopefully he didn't crush her for her insubordination._

" _Do you think for one second that you are the only one that has ever hated your looks?" He glanced at her over his shoulder, raising an optic ridge. "Well I did too, when I was a human."_

_She cut him off, turning her thigh slightly and removing the plain armor to reveal the upper back of it, just below the curve of her behind. Indicated the rough, misshapen metal there, she told him, "When I was surfing once, a shark got me. I was lucky that he didn't take much out, but it was still enough to leave an ugly scar."_

" _I was a teenager, Bonecrusher, and by the time I got out of the hospital it was nearly summer again. When I went back to school and realized that I could never wear the shorts that all the other girls got to wear, that I had worn, because of that stupid shark. I used to have such nice, tan legs from surfing, and I felt that I had to hide my scar." His optics had softened a tinge and he turned around to look at her again._

" _Every time I saw those other girls, I could see the back of their beautiful legs and was reminded of how beautiful I once was." She smoothed a servo over her leg, over the marred metal, remembering. One of his claws laid itself over her servo, making it look tiny in comparison. He did not have to say any words, just looking into his optics was enough._

" _And you know, I think that your looks make you scary." She had stroked his cheek, smiling at how he leaned into the touch and how a being so large could be so completely wrapped around her finger. "Like a Decepticon." He grinned softly, moving his helm forward so fast she had no time to react and landed flat on her back._

_Bonecrusher towered over her, his gaze akin to a wolf looking over its prey before he dove down and started kissing her belly fervently, a deep rumble in his chassis telling her he was pleased. She could only laugh softly and pet him again, running her fingers lightly over his helm. He thrummed, making her vibrate, and pushed his lips deeper into her abdomen. "So beautiful," he murmured as quietly as a Decepticon was able, "all mine."_

_She smiled, "All yours."_

_A week later he came back bearing a new gift for her. "Katanas," he offered the twin gleaming swords to her, so small in his servo, "I heard that you like them." She smiled and accepted them, noting that they were well balanced and sharpened when she jabbed and swung a few times. The handles were exquisitely crafted, small jade stones set just before where the blade started. Cybertronian glyphs decorated the black metal sheaths that would holster to either side of her waist, reading "Kimora."_

" _Besides, you are no Decepticon without your weapons." Her heart should have told her that she was no Decepticon regardless, that their values did not match hers in the slightest._

_But humanity had lost to them, and if you can't beat 'em join 'em. She rose her optics to see that two of his silver shoulder spikes, one on each side, were missing. She looked at the swords again and he answered her unspoken question._

" _Yes."_

Kimora smiled dreamily as she found recharge, thankful that she was luckier than Eleaniris when it came to her mate. Bonecrusher was still a brute, no doubt, but he was a trainable one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fools! Just another nasty Decepticon arrival.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated!


	50. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Mild Language.

Getting back to Nation's base in Fredericksburg had been difficult. Lennox had had to avoid the beams of light that swept the forest at random intervals and foot patrols that gave hardly any warning. If he had not received special training in stealth from the Army, he might not have made it. At least once every hour there had been a group that he came across, be it airborne or ground. It was obvious to Lennox that Megatron wanted her back; what the real question was was  _why?_

When he did reach the underground base in the grey dawn of early morning, removing the shelves and getting those inside to open the doors was no easy task either. Though the robots seemed to have moved on, a few times he had almost dropped a metal rack on the floor. It would surely have made a huge racket, drawn the attention of any nearby aliens, and given Nation away.

Nevertheless, after convincing the guards inside that he was who he said he was, they opened the trap doors just long enough for him to enter. Presently he stood before Burns' desk, just a few minutes before he was going to hold another meeting, telling him about what he had observed and what had befallen Eleanor.

"She's gone. When we were going to get some of that fuel they've been making at that plant, some other robots took her, but it wasn't back to Megatron." Burns narrowed his eyes at this, the dark circles reflective even in the dim light. Reluctantly and regretfully Lennox informed, "One mentioned something about her becoming his 'mate,' and she had ordered me not to move if anything was to happen. I think that she wanted me to listen to what they were talking about to take back to you." Lennox dipped his head in shame, believing it was his fault though he could have done nothing except get killed.

"She's a selfless one, that's for sure." The Nation leader buried his face in his hands, his chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. "That poor woman, getting passed around like some kind of worm among a group of crows."

There was a brief, but heavy, pause in which both men stared at the framed picture of human Eleanor. "What else did they say? They probably didn't take her back to Megatron, if one said that she was his  _mate_." He spat the word as if it tasted sour on his tongue.

"Nothing in particular, but two of the three had the names Thundercracker and Skywarp." Lennox paused, "And the latter, who took her, had some kind of teleportation device. He just vanished into thin air."  _So they could be anywhere right now._ Lennox just hoped it wasn't off-planet.

"Before they left, though, she dropped these." Lennox pulled the daggers out of his pack with extreme care, having seen that twisting the handle discharged some kind of fluid and sent something to Megatron that could be tracked. He put them on the worn surface of the wooden desk with a slight, dull clatter. "She was trying to defend herself, and she acted like she knew one of them from before."

Burn levelled him with a passive yet grim look. "So you think that they are a danger to her?"

"Well, she was definitely nervous, if not afraid, and so she wanted to fight."  _But she would want to do that with Megatron too…_ "There was a deeper fear there, especially after he said 'mate.' So yes, she's in  **great**  danger."

_I should have saved her. I should have done_ _**something.** _

Burns propped his head up with a hand, placing his thumb against one cheekbone and the index finger along the edge of the other side of his jaw. A flicker of fear showed itself briefly in his eyes, but it was gone when he asked, "Did anyone else see this?"

"No. There were several slave keepers running to the scene, but I'm sure that they did not know that Eleanor was there. I waited several minutes after Skywarp vanished,"  _and I failed to act,_ "but Megatron failed to make an appearance. If she was so precious to him, he would've been there." Lennox reasoned, looking at Burns to see his reaction.

"So he doesn't know that she was kidnapped." Burns nodded, his head still propped up, and cast his eyes over the papers on his desk. He appeared to make a mental note before moving on, for their time was short, "What else did you see when you were with her?"

"We came across the slave camp that has those strange warehouses. The ones I reported finding with Epps not long ago. There looked to be an increase in activity in the general vicinity, but we also saw Megatron."

"There was a slave master about to whip a child, a girl." Lennox felt himself tearing up; as many times as he had reported such awful,  _awful_  things, they still had the same emotional weight. "He was dangling her by her hair when Megatron came out. He became so  _angry_ , he marched right over and yelled at the other robot in their language."

Burns' eyebrows had raised, surprised. Lennox didn't blame him - he was still shocked himself - but continued, "The slaver dropped the girl and Megatron chewed him out, even holding him in a fist at one point, before just  _dropping_  him."

"It just seemed odd that he saved the kid. He actually looked to be  _angry_  that she was about to be punished." Lennox shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't get it. After everything we've seen him do-"

"There was a different reason." Burns interrupted nonchalantly, his eyes knowing, "He saw a slave master that had disobeyed or angered Megatron for another reason, and he only happened to be whipping a child. It it had been an adult, his reaction would have been the same."

He looked at his watch and sighed, standing from the rickety chair with the missing wheel and going to the door. "I must speak with the Council now for our appointed meeting." Burns looked at the doorknob in his hand and back to him, considering, "You may come if you wish. They may want to ask questions."

* * *

After being briefed on recent events, including the successful sending of the message, the escape of the President, the search parties, the base's near-discovery, and the kidnapping of Eleanor. After all of that, it was no wonder that they wanted to see the man present for all of it; Lennox himself.

"So does  _he_  know that his "Queen" is gone? With these other robots?" Mr. G, though Lennox could not see his face, sat back in his chair.

"There has been no change in the presence of search parties," Burns answered, "I assume that if he knew they would search elsewhere for her. They have no reason to remain, because if they thought that we might be here they would have already found us." Mr. G. nodded, contemplating.

"It seems as though we have a unique opportunity." He drawled, making Burns and Lennox narrow their eyes at the connotation.

"What are you insinuating?" Burns fought not to snarl, pulling out his Marine side.

"If they are hunting her, since he seems to desire her so, perhaps a bargain can be made." There was no change in Mr. G's tone; it still held the same air of mild fear, hope, and cowardice.

"Mr. Gallowa-" Burns barely kept himself from saying the Director's real name. "Are you suggesting what you seem to be?"

"The game is over, B." Galloway's voice had risen slightly, "How many of those 'plagues' worked? Did giving them a nasty copy of Trojan work? What about blowing up some of their mines? Poisoning their fuel, all of those others foiled plots?"

"She pledged to serve her country, and her sacrifice will not be forgotten." Lennox let his eyes widen, listening and trying to keep himself in his place.

"I say that we had her over to him in exchange for the freedom of our planet. He obviously wants her. Let him have her and leave the rest of us alone."

"Have you lost your god-damn  _marbles_?" Lennox beat Burns to the punch, not caring about being insubordinate. "She's our Pres-"

"She  _was_ , Mr. L." Galloway snapped, "We will  _never_  have another President again if this bargain does not go through. Are we sure that these Autobots are even coming? Have they heard our message?" He let his rhetorical questions hang in the air like smoke in a bar, making the air dark, hazy, and unsure.

Mr. G. then addressed the rest of them, "We have a unique opportunity, Council, to use this bargaining chip. It may be our last chance to do something against this…  _evil_."

"You can't do that to her! None of you saw how  _scared_  she was of him." Burns' desperation was growing by the second; the body language of the members was telling him that several agreed with G's point. "This is treason, Galloway!"

Mrs. T. spoke up, "Not for all of us. She was only  _your_  President, B. Even if she was mine, my vote would be the same." Her shadowed form reached over and pushed a button, displaying a green dot in the corner of the screen. "I am sorry that it had to be done this way."

She didn't sound sorry.

She sounded  _afraid_.

"Yes, let's have a vote. Yay for the bargain, nay for no bargain." Mr. G. daintily pressed a finger to his vote button without hesitation, placing a blinking green circle on his screen. His smugness made Lennox's gut wrench.

Within ten seconds, Eleanor's fate was decided. The Council had only one member dissent to the action; Burns himself.

"We do not know where she is. What will we be bargaining for?" Burns hated the decision, but it was already voted on and set in stone. His only way to defeat their action was to poke holes in the plan. With enough of those, it might fall apart like an ancient cloth.

Mr. G. seemed to have planned this out. "You say that you will help find her. Tell them that she knows to run away from them, but you she might approach. All it takes is one, well-hidden robot watching you lure her out."

"After she has been returned, we will be free." Burns shook his head; did they not understand that a force like this would not negotiate? He should have guessed that that weasel Galloway would try something. All along "Mr. G." had second-guessed Eleanor; this should  _hardly_  have been a " _dark horse_."

"What forces them to keep their word?" Lennox questioned. The robots had already demonstrated their dominance over the human race; what would make them afraid of retribution on part of beings that they viewed as animals?

Galloway sighed, "Nothing. This is our last hope, and desperate times call for desperate measures"

"So we just waltz into the palace and make an appointment with him?" Burns snorted at his own morbid sarcasm, "How would this even work?"

"That is up to you." Galloway left, followed by the Council. They all expressed their "condolences," but as far as Lennox was concerned it was diplomatic doubletalk. They didn't understand what it meant to loose your leader this way. For them it was arguably easier; their heads-of-state had been executed in cruel and inhumane ways, but they were dead and gone. What would befall Ms. Sherman in this bargain would be worse than death - it would be a sick form of sacrifice.

"How could they do this?" Lennox pressed his hands to his face, fighting to keep back his tears. In his heart, she was still his Commander-in-Chief and someone to be respected and protected. " _How_?"

"I know." Burns gave a sigh of his own, trying to control his raging emotions. He was between punching something - and probably breaking his hand - and dropping on the spot to weep. "But Democracy is Democracy. If we don't try, if we don't enforce their decision, all teamwork and fragile relations will cease to exist. They will find out if it is not attempted."

"So we are stuck, huh?" Lennox asked, wondering who would be going on this doomed mission. His gut told him that he would be one of them.

"Yes," Burns said, going to the door and holding it open for the soldier behind him, "we are." This was truly an impossible suicide mission, but never again would he doubt the power of fear and desperation. The (formerly) level-headed Council must have been at the end of their rope to think that this had any miniscule  _chance_  of working.  _We will be joining Wilson and Simmons in death, most likely._

* * *

" _Enter."_ Megatron growled into the comm., sitting back in his officer chair in Decepticon Command. He had just returned a breem or so ago from another unsuccessful search, frustrated and tired. Waiting until later that morning, after he had had some recharge, for this report would have been a course of action if it wasn't regarding Eleaniris.

Dreadwing obeyed, Shockwave entering behind and letting it cycle shut behind them. " _Come forward,"_ Megatron articulated in bored Cybertronian. He really needed some recharge, especially if he was to find Eleaniris later and take her to Knockout.

" _Dreadwing, what of your search parties?"_ The Emperor indicated that the Seeker was to use the display sitting on the desk, showcasing a map of the surrounding areas and where the teams had been searching.

" _Regretfully nothing new to report, Lord Megatron. A few thought that they might have seen something, but these were inconclusive."_ The midnight-blue jet tapped on a few sections, highlighting them in yellow. " _These areas have been searched thoroughly, and no signs were found of her presence."_

Lacking the patience and processor energy for further questioning on the matter, Megatron ordered, " _I expect a data pad detailing these searches and their findings or lack thereof. You are dismissed."_ Dreadwing was a good soldier, one that he had  _some_  faith in. He would surely produce results, especially as Eleaniris' Energon levels diminished.  _Why hasn't she commed me yet?_

Dreadwing cast a quick look to the painting on the wall but did not let his gaze linger too long; he had been ordered to leave. He had simply thought it curious and out of place in the office, oddly symbolic of the Empress' importance. No doubt her chamber would be instrumental in providing Megatron an heir - well, from the prevalent gossip of the warlord's appetite, it might be a  _multitude_  of possible heirs. Dreadwing had no qualms about sparklings and was even looking forward to seeing the little protoforms that the Queen would birth. Being met by one of his team members outside drew him from these thoughts as the door shut behind him.

The warlord narrowed his optics at the uninvited scientist. Though he said nothing, he let his body language tell Shockwave to explain his presence in his office. His mechs knew not to come in unless called, and that if that rule was disobeyed they should have an excellent reason.

" _I have modified the numbers for how long she will last before exhausting her supply."_ Shockwave shifted nervously under his unwavering stare, fearing the wrath of his still-silent commander. Silence from Megatron was hardly ever a good sign.

He continued, " _Taking into account her stress levels,"_ Megatron had to fight not to flinch, " _she should run out of Energon within the next solar cycle."_ Shockwave took a step back, sure that his lord would not take this news lightly. But the Emperor did not lash out in his destructive, and occasionally deadly, manner that left puddles of Energon. He looked  _perturbed,_ instead raising a servo to pinch his nasal plating and dimming his optics.

" _Dismissed,"_  was the warlord's curt intonation, which Shockwave wasted no time in following.

He weighed his options in the quiet office, deciding that comming her might produce some results. She could only last so long on an empty tank before going into stasis and, eventually, offlining. Perhaps he could get her to see reason and come back to him, where she was safe, comfortable, healthy, and full of Energon (and sparklings).

When he initiated the command sequence to comm. his little mate, neither static nor silence met him; an error message opened on his internal display, detailing that the recipient could not be found.  _Where are you, precious Eleaniris, that you cannot hear me?_

Very,  _very_  few things lay out of the Emperor of Destruction's reach; his  **mate**  should not be one of them.

He offlined his optics and crossed his arms, sitting back in his office chair to think about the increasingly dire situation. Recharge slowly crept up on his exhausted processor and unseeing optics, pinning him beneath its unyielding claws and taking him victim without his knowledge.

* * *

His faction was in disorganized ruin, spread across the galaxy. He was sure that several had offlined from a lack of Energon, as had a few from his own team. There was no word from Sentinel, and the ship carrying their victory against the Decepticons had vanished among the stars.

Primus only knew where their adversaries were now.

Optimus Prime was on some dark, rocky orphan planet, staring out at the expanse of the galaxy before him. They were quickly running out of options - and Energon - and his mechs were growing restless. If he were Megatron and the Autobots the Decepticons, there would probably have been more fights by now (excluding the everyday squabbles of Mudflap and Skids, of course).

All was silent except for the twins' commentary in the background behind him until his picked up a signal in his helm. It was relatively short and in a language he did not understand, but it sounded panicked and fearful. Included in the message were coordinates, which he saved as soon as the message was complete.

" _Did you hear that, Optimus?"_ He turned to look at Ratchet, the medic watching him with inquisitive blue optics.

The last Prime replied with his own Cybertronian, " _Yes."_ Beings with the technology to send a message into space this far - based on the difference in his current position and the included coordinates - should have a language that was known to him. The fact that this tongue was not familiar concerned him, as was the trepidation and desperation those strange sounds conveyed. That kind of fear and that technology - if he was correct in his assumption - could only come from the Decepticons.

" _It seems as though we have another destination."_

* * *

_She was cowering before him on her knees, her already tiny form bent over so far forward that her helm was almost pressed to the floor. He was sitting on his throne in a dark, mostly obscured throne room. In fact, the air beyond her was completely black and his optical sensors could not see what lay there. The appeared to be in some sort of bubble, where only the circle they were in was lit. The rest of the world simply ceased to exist._

" _I-I can't do this." He could hear the sobs in her voice though he could not see her face. Then, at her words, anger raged through him like fire had through New York, burning brighter and brighter until it was white-hot in his chassis. His body seemed to be out of his control and he went down the steps to pluck her prone frame off the ground, holding her thin, so very fragile neck between two claws in front of his face._

" _Explain." He growled, letting his hot exhaust pour over her suspended body._

_Her vocalization was strained in the same way a human's would be if they were choking, "I'm …. sorry." Her little servos pried at his talons desperately, her white optics wide with absolute, unadulterated fear. His processor was pleased to see that a being so insignificant and weak wanted to cower from him, wanted to fall to its knees and worship him like the god he was._

_But she was his mate, the bearer of his young. She was supposed to be protected by him, not hurt. Nevertheless he was dissatisfied with her answer and squeezed a minute amount more. Pleasure sensors in his mainframe lit up when she gasped and the metal in her neck crunched. He heard a resounding crack and somehow came to his senses, opening his digits in shock and dropping her to the ground._

_If she was still human, she might have died. But as it was her body made a clanking sound when it hit the marble floor and a guttural scream came from her delicate throat._ What is wrong with her vocalizer?

_She looked at him, optics leaking coolant from her pain and filled with utter terror, and awkwardly got to her pedes. Eleaniris stood for a moment, watching him as if she was calculating something. Then with surprising speed she bolted, going into the dark border around their little circle._

" _Eleaniris?" he called, walking after her. Unfamiliar and unwanted guilt prodded at his spark, which had wrenched tightly at her pain - especially since he had inflicted it. The circle of light moved with him as he followed the sounds of her running away. He reached what felt like the center of the throne room and spoke again, "Little one, precious mate of mine, show yourself to your protector."_

_He heard a strangled sob, followed by the rough whisper of a word he didn't catch. The open, main doors of his throne room loomed before him but it was the figure standing beyond that made him reset his optics._

_Optimus Prime, indeed, was standing there. Megatron almost launched himself but caught sight of the little Empress nestled in his opponent's servo. "Eleaniris?" he said gently, though still watching his archnemesis for any movement. "What is the meaning of this?"_

_She whimpered and pushed herself_ _**deeper** _ _into the palm of his enemy's servo. "Why are you with him? Come back to your mate!" His "submissive" Queen shook her helm madly, now gripping the plates of Optimus' chassis as well as her little servos could. She was cowering away from him and into the armor of his opponent, her optics distrustful._

_He growled and went to snarl something else at the Autobot leader when she said in a rough, strangled voice, "Optimus doesn't make me feel scared."_

" _What?" he barked, wondering if his audios needed a reset as well._

" _Optimus doesn't make me feel powerless, like I don't have a choice in anything. He doesn't make me feel helpless," she stroked the servo beneath her in a way that he hated to describe as lovingly, "In fact his servo feels like the safest place in the world." Her voice was no longer smooth; it was more gravelly than he knew his was and cracked in irregular intervals._ That's your own fault,  _his aching spark told him,_ **you**  broke her vocalizer.

" _And Optimus' servos will always defend me, never hurt me. Never will they make me feel defenseless and small and_ _ **insignificant**_ _. He will always make me feel like I matter, that I am more than some plaything to warm his berth." She paused but did not look at him, "He will never try to take away my voice."_

_His opponent raised her to his cheek, where she placed a happy and willing kiss on the metal there. "You make me feel nothing but scared, Megatron. Your servos are the most dangerous place in the world for me to be, and that is why I chose Optimus," he could feel his spark breaking, screaming in longing for the mate that denied it as she cuddled against Optimus' cheek,_

" _not_ _ **you**_ _."_

His optics onlined so quickly it was as if he had been awake for the whole spectacle. The familiar surroundings of his office, however, told him that this was not so. It was merely a flux, a Cybertronian nightmare. But how she had denied him, how she chose Circuitsia's  _killer_  over her own sparkmate…

All because she was afraid of him. All because he intimidated and scared her, even if it was not his intention.  _But in the dream it was your intention._

He had even hurt her with his own servos, his small defenseless mate;  _pleasure_  had even come from it.  _What kind of a mate am I? And then I_ _ **drop**_   _her after I crack her vocalizer?_

Megatron sighed, looking at her portrait on his wall - several others like it would be joining it soon. Would she ever pose for one willingly? Would she ever kiss him, even with just a  _fraction_  of the comfortability of the one she had given that wretched Prime? Would she ever let  _him_  kiss  _her_ without protest?

If she was so frightened that she had run away, if Eleaniris was too scared to ask for help from him when she was injured, if she was so stressed her body didn't use Energon efficiently…

No. The answer was a cold, resounding  _no_.

He stood from his desk and walked out, his spark still pulsing madly at the flux. He would kill that Prime before Eleaniris even knew he existed. There would be no opportunity, absolutely  _none_ , for that dream to become reality.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That dream is actually pretty sad. I can't imagine what it would be like to experience that.
> 
> And we get a glimpse at Optimus! Yay! But Nation's decision - will Lennox and Burns balk out of the vote that was cast by the Council?


	51. The Known and Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. 
> 
> Some of the background in this chapter comes from IDW's All Hail Megatron. 
> 
> Language.

Recharge was, under "normal" conditions, no easy task for Eleaniris. The fact that she was sleeping with a robot she didn't know and didn't trust - not that she had trusted Megatron  _much_ \- made it all the more difficult. Her mind was running on overdrive, mulling over what Starscream had planned, what Megatron would do if he found her, if the Emperor had uncovered the rebel base… The list went on and on, eventually circling back around to the first item.

If she managed to stop the cycle, she would almost fall asleep and then jerk awake at the most random, quiet noises. Then the circular list would start again like the tracks of a CD.

The Empress must have plain worn herself out, because she awoke to see the ugly mug of Skywarp looking at her -  _really_ , her rebellious mind had thought and her chest had fluttered,  _Megatron was so much more handsome._ "You're so warm, little Squeaker." Skywarp greeted huskily - though not as huskily as Megatron - grinning and revealing his sharp denta. "But we have to get up, I'm afraid. Starscream and Thundercracker are here and want to see you."

Yesterday (at least she thought it was) she had thought she had recognized Skywarp from somewhere in the dark recesses of her memory, but had been too tired to really think about it. Now, though, his location came to hit her with the force of a semi truck.

He was from Beijing.

On the day of the Invasion she had stood in the auxiliary briefing room in the basement of the White House, watching him decimate the city by  _himself_. He was not accompanied like Megatron was in New York, but simply killed and destroyed left and right, using his fists to tear apart buildings and flush out the humans inside like cockroaches.  _That's all we are to them, after all. Roaches._

He had held up a old woman, holding her before his face as she begged for her life. He had smirked, she remembered seeing on the camera feed, before ending her with a firm and swift squeeze. Then he had discarded whatever was left of her body and walked away to continue his path of destruction, uncaring about the innocent soul he had just torn from the world.  _We're just animals, after all. Megatron has affirmed that himself multiple times._

_But what's so special about me? He obviously doesn't see me as an animal. Whatever did I do to deserve this torture, this hell?_

Skywarp re-entering Megatron's prison room gave her reprieve from her depressing thoughts of inadequacy. Starscream and Thundercracker, as promised, stood by the platform in the center of the room. They had stopped talking when they saw her come in in Skywarp's servo, a large grin twisting the faceplates of Starscream while Thundercracker merely looked on, expressionless.

"My, how beautiful you look." he purred in a way that Eleaniris was not sure if she was being mocked or not.

Thundercracker, to her appreciation, was more formal in his greeting. "Madame."

"Don't be so stiff, TC," Skywarp chuckled, using his empty servo - thankfully - to swat the other jet on the shoulder with a clang that made her wince. "She's our mate." He looked down at her and smirked lustfully.

" _Our?"_ Eleaniris asked, hoping she had heard incorrectly. She couldn't handle the concept of Starscream having her, let alone the  _three_ of them.

" _Our."_ Starscream purred again, a mischievous glint in his optics.  _I know something that you don't,_ they said.

"It was a Seeker tradition for trines to share a mate, especially when the war started." He paused, raising an optic ridge at her, "Do you know about the war, Seekerlet? Has Megatron said as much to you?"

"Yes, I know about your civil war." She cocked her helm, staring right back at him, "Why do you call me Seekerlet? I am not a Seeker."  _I'm getting tired of all of these shoddy nicknames._ Unconsciously her processor whispered,  _Even Megatron's were better. "Little Flower" is actually kind of cute._ Internally she snarled in derision;  _Nobody should be calling the President of the United States a flower._

_Nobody, especially an enemy, should be able to call the Commander-in-Chief "adorable" and "cute." This whole Invasion is a perversion._

Skywarp chuckled, raising her to their faces and indicating her pedes. "But of course you are! You have thrusters, see?" He tapped one of the "heels" on her pedes carefully and a bit less roughly. Nonetheless it was jarring; she was starting to want to cringe from his touch.

Starscream moved his servo in a shooing motion, "Go on, show us your wings." He seemed oddly eager, his optics shining.

She looked at him, perplexed. "I don't understand. I've never had wings."

"What do you mean, Eleaniris?" Thundercracker was proving himself to be the quiet, reflective type. At least for the time being.

"I meant what I said," Eleaniris was getting exasperated, "I  _do not_  have wings!"  _Where did they get such a ridiculous notion? This is like Megatron implying that he "knew" I was injured, but I'm not._

Skywarp pinned her on her belly with his other servo, prodding at her back roughly. "Wow. You don't." He sounded… sad?

Starscream's face had darkened and he inspected her back, concluding indignantly "I bet he tore them off of you himself so you couldn't fly away from him. Fragging creation of a glitch."

Had he? Was she supposed to have wings, and he had them removed so she couldn't get away? Was it not enough that she was defenseless as it was, that she fit in his servo? Her face fell, wondering when this endless infliction of suffering on her part would end.

If it ever would.

Thundercracker's gentle, deep voice intoned quietly, "It's okay, Eleaniris. We'll get some for you, as soon as we have a medic."

Skywarped nodded, agreeing with his trinemate. "Yes, little Squeaker. And I'll even teach you how to fly!" He genuinely smiled down at her and she half-smiled weakly, remembering the destruction of Beijing. "You're going to love it."

Starscream made no statement or motion to indicate approval or disapproval and just stood there with a pensive expression. Megatron had deactivated his wings a few times, had torn at them for punishment and sent him to the medbay repeatedly. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be wingless and imprisoned on the ground permanently, as she had been. But Megatron also had a point,  _if_ he had actually ripped them off of her… She would be completely dependent on them, on  _him_.

Eleaniris noticed his lack of expression but said nothing. It made her nervous that she was not privy to his thoughts.

"What's your alt mode, Squeaker?" Skywarp was trying to distract her from her lack of wings, she could tell.  _How very touching, coming from a robot that murdered so many millions all by his lonesome._

"Alt mode?" She asked cluelessly.

"You know, what you transform into?" If she had eyelids, she would have blinked in suprise. How had she forgotten to ask Megatron  _that_? Wasn't that the whole  **point**  of being a Transformer? To actually  _transform_?  _I guess I was just too busy,_ she thought morbidly.

"I don't know how." She felt really stupid now; what else hadn't Megatron told her? She hadn't read much of the book on anatomy, except about the weak points in a bot's armor.  _I should have read it cover to cover and then over again. I should have._

Skywarp gasped in mortification and Thundercracker answered her, "Just think of your body reforming and reshaping. It comes very naturally." Eleaniris nodded and shuttered her optics to concentrate, imagining her metal rearranging itself as Megatron's had so many times.

And nothing happened. She waited half a minute, her optics offlined, for nothing.

"I don't understand. What am I doing wrong?" She asked the three Seekers, opening her optics and cocking her helm to the side.

Thundercracker took her from Skywarp, his gentle touch a breath of fresh air after Skywarp's characteristic roughness. He laid her on her back in his servo, carefully prodding her belly and chassis. She protested when he touched the latter, but he whispered quiet reassurance that he wasn't going to try anything.

She laid back but continued to observe with narrowed optics. So far, Thundercracker had done nothing to prove himself as a threat to her. He too tickled her processor in a way that told her she had seen him before, and a few seconds of thinking revealed that he was in Beijing. Skywarp had not been alone in the  _city_ , but had been alone in the  _slaughter_. In fact, she recalled him just standing around and watching his partner kill, with a pensive expression on his face. This alone was enough to increase her trust in him, but she didn't give him a clean slate either. He was still a damned Decepticon.

He finished a minute later, announcing sadly, "You don't have a transformation cog. You can't transform, no matter how much you want to."

She felt tears start to brim in her optics, running down her cheeks in little streams. "So I can't fly or transform?" Inside Eleaniris was wilting with sadness but also burning with a growing flame of rage. Thundercracker shook his helm, still cradling her on her back.

"So what's supposed to be  _special_ about this body then?" She fumed, still crying even if she wanted to hide it. "I can't  _fly_ , I can't even  _transform_ ," She yelled through her tears, drawing sympathetic looks from the three Seekers, "I'm practically just a metal  _human_."  _So he did want me as a sex toy, nothing more and nothing less._

_The only thing I can do, the only thing this stupid, fucking body can do, is serve and pleasure him as his Slave Queen. He doesn't_ _**care** _ _about me; he just wants me as his damned_ _**bitch** _ _._

Little did she know how angry, how  _furious_  Megatron would be if he heard that thought.

She raised her servos to her face and wept, crying for so many things and trying to vent her frustration. Thundercracker stroked her belly carefully with a digit in a reassuring manner, his optics soft.  _That bastard ruined everything for me. He took away everything I held dear: my humanity and my freedom, my honor and my independence, my home and my last remaining family._

Against her will a voice spoke smoothly in her helm, so silkily that for an instant she thought it was Borealis,  _But he makes you feel safe. All those times his followers insulted and/or hurt you, who came to the rescue?_

Yet again, her emotions confused and bewildered her. How could she think such things about her tormentor? About the mech that had destroyed her life?

Megatron was evil, plain and simple. The way he had sauntered through New York casually blowing up skyscrapers with single shots from his enormous, powerful arm cannon proved this. He liked to torture and kill those that could not defend themselves, those whose flesh had no chance of fighting against his metal. She remembered watching him from the basement, where he had made the President of the United States cower in fear, as he wreaked havoc upon their home and set about pinning it under his clawed finger. Where he had made her feel self-doubt, made her feel weak and helpless and  _scared_. He had flipped her life upside down, and a year and a half later he had taken the defeated commander and made her his "Queen."

_As if that title means anything. It's a mockery of power, a sham of a title. His Slave Queen does not hold any responsibility, but has the "honor" of a front-row seat to this play of slaughter._

Yet, despite all of that, he didn't make her feel scared now. He was always gentle, even if he had a tendency to pluck her up whenever he felt like it or not allow her to walk on her own. He didn't give her choices and he didn't get that she  **hated** him, but he wasn't a  _total_ brute. Maybe just 99.99% brute.

Megatron, oddly enough, wasn't the one that scared her; in fact, if she was in life-or-death trouble, she felt that she  _might_ turn to him for safety.

Starscream did, and she had just noticed the odd look on his faceplates.

* * *

The drive to the palace, located at the coordinates Megatron had given him, had been a long one for Knockout. To his dismay, Earth's population of bugs had not dwindled as much as the humans' had and he felt as if half of the planet's insects were stuck in the grill of his new alt mode.

Slag. Ah, well. It couldn't be helped. He had his orders from the Supreme Commander and he was just  _itching_ to know about the specifics of how the Queen was made. With luck he might be rewarded with a femme of his own! But he had to look at the records first, and how would they know if the converted femmes could carry? How would one even go about impregnating a femme of a human's size, assuming that they had not increased in stature? Since matter could not be created, did they have some sort of device that made them smaller?

Curious indeed. He had many questions and if he could just find Soundwave he could start on the research - and maybe scout out a human that he thought would be pretty enough. Such a large palace must need the labor of hundreds, if not thousands, of slaves to keep it gleaming so. Perhaps one could be found amongst them.

_I probably need another language pack to communicate with them. Soundwave would know which._

He found the entrance - the one that didn't go into the throne room directly, as the guards there wouldn't let him in - and explained to the guards his business. They nodded, beckoning for him to enter the large room beyond. It was rather undecorated, the purpose most likely to be determined or it had just been finished.

He inadvertently startled a human that had been working in there, making it drop its tiny stick-thing covered in a green liquidy paste. It quickly recovered, however, and collected its stick from the ground to climb back up its ladder and resume brushing the slightly-wet paste onto a white fabric slab. Shaking his helm at the odd behaviours of organics, the medic continued on his way to Decepticon Command and followed the directions of the guards.

Evidently most of the floor he was on constituted Command, for he did not have to walk long to reach the door that separated the regular hallways and those of the Decepticon Command. Soundwave would surely be in here somewhere.

* * *

Megatron sighed, gazing upon unsuccessful report after unsuccessful report of the searches for his Queen. It was sometime in the later afternoon now, and since the morning of his flux he had been worrying over her nonstop. It was so severe that he avoided his own apartments; they only reminded him of her absence, and her drone and gryphon certainly didn't help.

If she was any one of the other femmes he had taken prisoner and seduced, he would have left her to die by now or placed her on the dreaded List of the DJD.

But she was his Empress. She was not to  _ever_ be left behind. Even if she ... offlined, her body would be found and given the same Cybertronian burial as Circuitsia had, launched out among the stars. He was not a mech to pray to deities, but now he did pray that she would be found and returned to him alive. He could take care of the rest if her spark held on; Knockout could work miracles if his flawless paint job was threatened enough.

Perhaps the Justice Division was an option, though. They were excellent trackers, and any unfortunate spark that found themselves on the List was located and terminated with precision. He might just have to tell Tarn to track down his Queen and make it clear that she was not to be hurt. Tarn was loyal to him, no doubt, and would follow his commands.

However, she was  _his_ and therefore his responsibility. He wanted to be the one to catch her, even if she was injured and so very  _scared_ of him. He would have to ask someone about how best to go about lessening her fear. Soundwave had been of no use, perhaps one of her companions might be. They could easily be kept quiet, if he dangled his claws in front of them enough.

A ping from the door interrupted the gladiator's thoughts, making him wonder if he had forgotten about a meeting. He checked his display, but nothing came up for this time. Interested, irritated and hopeful, he allowed the mech to enter and sent the command for the door of his office to unlock.

* * *

"I can't believe this." Lennox followed Burns through the dusk-lit woods, trying to keep his irate voice down so that any patrols wouldn't hear it. "We are actually going to use the President of the United States as a  _fucking_ sacrifice. How utterly  _barbaric_."

Lennox wasn't one to curse, but he had been incessantly since they had left the base a few hours ago. The both of them had been sure to (try to) sleep since the meeting and had awoken to embark on their sullen journey with only a few hours' rest. The constant, ceaseless patrols had made escape difficult and horses impossible, leaving them to walk. The break from the stifling basement and ability to stretch his legs would have been appreciated if Burns wasn't still trying to come to terms with the deal himself.

It had been made with poor information, which Burns didn't like being a former Marine. The Council had drafted and voted on it in the span of ten minutes, probably out of a great deal of fear and a great deal of despair. Never again would he doubt what desperation could do to cowards like Galloway and spineless, fickle flip-floppers like Ms. T.

Nonetheless, even if it was a calculated decision, Burns hated that his President, the last remaining world leader and woman whose terror and suffering he had seen, was the bargaining chip. He could scarcely believe that one of her own  _advisers_ would be the one to concoct this wicked scheme, would betray the leader they had worked for. What would Eleanor say if she knew?

Then there was the part about the Decepticons even holding to the deal. If Megatron somehow regained Eleanor - or  _Eleaniris_ , whatever that monster had decided to rename her - what forced him to keep his bargain? Assuming they got that far, even. What kept Megatron, or one of his overlarge brutes, from crushing himself and Lennox when they got there? Most likely they would be tossing their lives away for nothing and would join Simmons and Wilson in whatever came next.

No part of this deal made any sense. He would sooner understand the IRS tax code than he would wrap his head around this half-baked plan.

"Democracy is Democracy, Lennox. It's a bunch of backstabbing, capricious bureaucrats that do anything to save their own skin." Burns tried to keep the acid he felt inside from running into his tone, but some of it spilled over. "There is nothing we can do."

"Nothing  _we_ can do?" Lennox's boots stomped harder on the dirt and vegetation of the forest, demonstrating his anger. "I can't do this to her! I saw her  _whimpering_ and  _crying_ in her  _sleep_!"

"Look at it this way," Burns tried to reason with both himself and Lennox, "how do we know that she is safe with this other robot? How do we know that she is not in mortal danger with him?" If there was nothing he could do to change their awful predicament, he might be able to make himself a little more comfortable with it.

It was necessary for survival.

"Respectfully, this is hardly a question of the lesser and greater evil sir." Lennox's veins were starting to pop out on his neck. Absently Burns wondered if his was doing the same.

Stepping over a log and scanning their surroundings with practiced eyes, he gave a measured reply, "No." Lennox raised an eyebrow but continued to keep an eye on the forest like the practiced soldier he was.

"It's a question of the evil we know versus the evil we do not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fiftieth chapter guys! Can you believe it? I can't. 
> 
> Reviews are awesome - Abraham Lincoln (who also said that you can't trust anything you read on the internet)


	52. The Datapad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. I don't own Sing Sweet Nightingale.

It was only Shockwave, yet again, to Megatron's disappointment. He had been hoping for a mech bearing his Queen to enter, but it was not meant to be. He didn't bother with trying to mask his dissatisfaction, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat. " _Well?"_ he snapped, tired of the scientist's unscheduled interruptions. He had enough work to do, even if his Queen had not been on the loose, and his processor was recharge-deprived as it was.

Shockwave held out a datapad, replying with just a touch of fear in his normally emotionless Cybertronian, " _The solution to the problem of the human younglings, Lord Megatron. As you have requested."_

Megatron didn't acknowledge that he had ordered for the finished product to be brought to him upon its completion, merely snatching it out of the one-opticed mech's servo. " _Soundwave has contributed, why is he not present?"_ Believing that consistency in his tone was essential, he kept his impatient voice.

" _He requested that you relieve him of duty for this. He felt that he was…"_ Shockwave paused, very uncharacteristic of a measured mech like himself, " _unfit."_

Megatron let his optics narrow, filing away the issue for contemplation later. It was very unlike Soundwave to refuse a duty assigned to him. He set the datapad on the surface in front of him and, never one for unnecessary conversations, growled " _Dismissed."_

Shockwave dipped his helm respectfully, turning to leave. On a whim, Megatron added, " _Stay away from your mate, Shockwave. You know your orders."_ He had no evidence to suggest that Shockwave had been sneaking around with Talia, but it was prudent to keep his subordinates on a tight leash. His ploy worked, the backplates of the scientist tensing as his shoulders hiked up minutely.

He opened the tablet, settling his optics on the screen and the finely-typed plans displayed. When he realised, after reading the same sentence multiple times, that this was not going to work and his worried processor refused to compute, he set aside the still-on datapad and looked at Eleaniris' portrait, wondering where he would hang the new one being painted at the moment. He had been told that it was nearly finished that morning, and by the afternoon it would be ready for presentation.

Checking his internal chronometer and seeing that it was probably past sunset - my how time disappeared in his windowless, dark office - Megatron commed one of the guards to fetch the human artist and its painting. If he could not see Eleaniris in person, he would see her figuratively. He knew that he was beyond obsessed at this point but he didn't bother with caring. Eleaniris was his sparkmate, not some seduced Autobot prisoner; she was worth his attentions.

He had had to edit the memory that was to be the painting, telling the human to depict Eleaniris as a Cybertronian. Though he secretly had admired her soft, flawless skin he knew that two paintings of the Queen as a human might raise questions among his forces. The last thing that was needed was for more of his mechs to join Starscream in his senseless rebellion. By no means had many defected, but it was just another subject matter to be dealt with. He had an army to keep track of, another planet to conquer (he had yet to decide which), Autobots and a human resistance to hunt, infighting to quell, a Queen to find and impreg- a ping on his desktop display broke the suddenly lustful chain of thoughts.

Evidently he had warships to launch as well. A notification sat there from the supervisor of the camp he had been in only a few days ago to inspect the nearly-completed ships. A grin made its way to his faceplates as his imagination ran wild with what doors he had opened. Undoubtedly Eleaniris would be found much faster now, with better-equipped ships, and he could even launch a few into space to patrol the system along the asteroid belt. Autobots might be caught if he did that, and if he was lucky Optimus Prime would be among them.

Then he could have his revenge for shooting at him and killing Circuitsia instead. That valiant femme had thrown herself in front of his chest, taking a shot from Optimus right into her chassis. Before that had happened Optimus was merely a political adversary, but afterwards…

He was an  _enemy_ for taking his sparkmate away from him. The Emperor of Destruction would do everything he possibly could to ensure that Eleaniris would be protected from such a fiend. History would  _not_ repeat itself. With proud and contented strokes he sent orders for them to prepare for launch, one group to space and the other to look for Eleaniris.

Another ping from his door prompted Megatron to open it, a little excited to see the new portrait of Eleaniris. The human artist came forward, wiping its hands on its apron in nervousness -  _good_ \- as the guard followed it in, toting carefully the painting of his precious Queen. "Let's see." Megatron rumbled, pleased with how the human jumped at his deep timbre. The guard gingerly held it before his body, showcasing the long, still damp painting for his lord's optics. Megatron scanned it, ravishing Eleaniris' body with his rubies.

It depicted her metallic body, devoid of all armor, standing in dark, waist deep water of the tropical stream of their vacation island. A waterfall ran over her helm, sending delightful rivulets down her lithe body and slender back, while her helm was tilted back in bliss. Her optics were shuttered and dim, though only one side of her face was visible in the painting as she looked over her bare shoulder. Her back was completly uncovered and was most of what he could see, but the angle allowed him to notice that her arms were crossed over her chassis, just like in the memory.

_Eleanor was missing when he awoke in the cave, his chassis empty and cold. Concerned about where she might have wandered off to but also curious, he crept out of the cavern on his knees with all of his learned silence. Once outside, he stood tall and focused on his olfactory and auditory sensors when he had not observed Eleanor in the surrounding area. He picked up a small trace of her scent and he followed it along the trail, being sure to keep his steps as quiet as possible when he heard her voice. He didn't want to spook her, after all._

_His efforts were rewarded when he turned a bend, finding an ident in the side of the hill where water ran from an unknown source and made a sort of pool before continuing on its way to the ocean. There, in the pond, stood his pet and future Queen. Her bare back was turned to him as she bathed in the fresh water, scrubbing at her scalp and combing through her hair with her tiny fingers. Her head was tilted back to angle the water away from her face and she sang beautifully, her eyes closed as she enjoyed her bath. The song was more than a little repetitive, but his audios would never tire of his sparkmate's soothing tones._

Oh, sing sweet nightingale

Sing sweet nightingale, high

_Her voice would swell and collapse in the most soothing melody, and he wanted to shutter his own optics to drink up her sounds._

Oh, sing sweet nightingale

_Beautiful, indeed. He had slunk back around the corner to listen to her without her knowing of his presence. He didn't want to break her trust by watching her without her permission, and he knew she didn't like to be seen in the bath. Such a cute, shy little thing._

Megatron nodded in approval, satisfied with the excellent rendition. "Marvelous." He nodded at the human, raising an optic ridge "You are dismissed." He shooed the guard as well, indicating that he was to place the painting by the wall. Later he would have it hung on the empty wall opposite the original painting.

The little insect was more than happy to be allowed to leave his presence, practically sprinting for the door with the guard on its tiny heels. Changing his mind, Megatron growled at the black metal of the guard, making him halt in his tracks with a slight screech on the metal floor. " _Find the librarian called Susan and bring her to me."_ He paused briefly, studying the drone with narrowed red optics, " _You may leave"_

The guard nodded, leaving after the human and returning quickly with Susan. The library was adjacent to Command - by design - and if he was not so busy he would have gone himself to make sure that his separation between the mates was being abided by. He would never admit it, but the other, happy pairs made him jealous. Even at the parties he had thrown in her honor, he would look at the affectionate couples like Soundwave and Grace and then back at himself and Eleaniris, the latter with her back to him and arms crossed unhappily, resisting every advance he tried to make.

It hurt, more than Megatron cared to admit.

"What do you want me for?" Susan glowered at him, her blue optics making him want to smash her out of reflex as his processor screamed  _Autobot!_ Disregarding the ridiculous notion and knowing that there were no Autobots present on this planet -  _his_ planet - he ignored the urge to terminate her.

"Do you always address your superiors in such a disrespectful manner?" Megatron grilled her, raising an optic ridge. His question was mostly rhetorical and carried a warning, but he was curious as to how she would react.

"No." Susan answered quietly, her anger and boldness wavering at the sight of the huge behemoth in the dark room.  _How did Eleaniris do this?_

The guard set the femme down on his desk and left as he was ordered, Megatron leaning forward in his seat towards the femme. "It has come to my attention," she scrambled backwards, eyeing him with great distrust, "that Eleaniris fears me."

Susan snorted, her motherly feelings about her former employer coming back with full force. She noticed the way that Megatron had folded his servos in front of him on the metal desktop, noticed his slow tone, and also noticed the online datapad next to her. She didn't have a chance to read the title before Megatron shifted in his chair, making her optics zoom back in on him as they picked up the movement. Realising that he was waiting for a response on her part, she said indignantly "Of course she does."

Megatron raised an optic ridge inquisitively, silently indicating for her to elaborate. She stood up from where she had fallen in her scramble, gesturing with her servos at his massive bulk, "I mean, look at you!"

She must have stroked the warlord's ego, because he seemed to puff out his chest proudly and straighten in his seat. Exasperated she explained quietly, "You're just so big, she must feel so  _small_."  _Like I do right now._

What came out of his god-forsaken mouth next was something she never would have expected.

"But I don't want her to."

He sounded almost….  _regretful_ , his optics leaving her and staring off into the distance. His posture slackened and his huge chassis deflated, the servos before her relaxing.

"What did you expect?" She tried to remain respectful, despite not having any semblance of respect for him.

Susan cocked her helm at the giant towering over her when his optics snapped back to her, the red rubies glowing ominously in the dark of the office. "I wanted her to feel safe." His voice was soft, almost as if he was wondering out loud. In direct contemplation of his tone, his jaw clenched and frame re-hardened, optics flaring briefly with fury. Susan could tell that it was not directed at her because he had zoned out again and seemed to be staring at the desk under her.

Could he be angry with  _himself_?

Regardless, Susan tried to talk him back from the cliff edge. Even if she had been rebellious enough on past occasions with denying him what he wanted, seeing those claws feet in front of her and standing in his menacing shadow made her rethink her willingness to die. There were so many others that depended on her, Eleaniris being one of them. Susan was sure that this fiend would track her down and drag her back eventually, and then the whole cycle would start all over again. Who would truly understand her worries when Megatron recaptured her if her friends were not there to hear them?

"She has a reason not to feel that way." She whispered, trying to stay meek and unassuming. The mech before her liked submisive behaviour.

"Show me." He growled, moving his deadly, sharp, clawed servos towards her and encircling her. "Show me how to make her feel secure."  _It must take a lot for him to ask, being a big, bad, brutish beast with pride bigger than Mars._

If Eleaniris' cycle of torture was inevitable, why not help her at least a little? If she could actually teach him to be gentle and caring, it might ease a miniscule amount of her suffering. Shakily she asked, "Well, first show me how you pick her up. Just do it normal and how you would do it typically."

Megatron nodded, plucking her up abruptly in a loose fist before changing positions so that she was sitting in his open palm. Susan nodded in thought, a bit shell-shocked from the fast movement. "Okay, put me down."

He did and watched her with his intense gaze. "Try offering her an open servo to step into. She won't feel as threatened, I don't think." Megatron huffed but did as she asked, holding out a servo with his palm up. He felt as if he was learning how to handle humans gently all over again.

Susan got in and sat down, instructing further and finding that her tone was more resolute, "Now don't move too fast. It's a bit disorienting." She hadn't failed to notice Megatron's latest lewd edition to his Eleaniris portrait collection, leaning innocently (despite its suggestive contents) against the wall.  _That poor dear._

* * *

" _So this is it, huh?"_

By the looks of things, Megatron had already sent word to Soundwave of Knockout's arrival. When the medic had finally found the new Decepticon Second-in-Command, the mech was ready to give him the datapad with Eleaniris' records. Knockout usually avoided conversation with the spymaster, both because Soundwave was normally too occupied for talk that was not absolutely necessary and because Knockout was nervous around him. Soundwave was not very expressive and thus the medic did not know what to think of him.

" _Which language pack is needed for human contact?"_ Soundwave didn't even look up from his terminal, both servos typing into the display. Something about warships, Knockout saw.

" _Standard English."_ All of the vibes Knockout was getting from Soundwave were telling him to just download it and run, which is exactly what the egoist did.

Only to halt when he heard something very, very unusual.

"Hello, sweetspark." Soundwave said softly, undoubtedly over his comm. link. Knockout stayed still and listened, just around the corner from where the former gladiator was. "Yes, I know. That is why this must be kept concise, little bird."

Little bird? Interesting. Were there other femmes that had been converted as well? Perhaps Soundwave was speaking to his own reward. This excited him, making the idea of a mate and personal polisher all the more attainable for the medic.

Thus he followed the attached directions to the medical bay. He would flip through her medical records, both human and Cybertronian, to get an idea of what he was working with. The knowledge of how to convert humans into femmes would be useful indeed, although he was not foolish enough to incite the wrath of Megatron by initiating an experiment himself.

Also, when he reached his new workspace he could find out just who Soundwave might have been speaking to with such odd sweetness and warmth. Surely there would be records of the Cyberformations that femmes had undergone, and also he could ask about where they worked.

* * *

Megatron was humiliated that he had to be taught how to handle his own mate. It implied that he was incapable and, to a degree, inexperienced in wooing femmes. Susan might never know, but the warlord was hardly a rookie at seduction. Although he had vowed never to allow rape after witnessing what it had done to his own sparkmate - dubbed the "Circuitsia Clause" among some - he had had some...  _ways_ to get around his own rule.

But never before had he encountered a femme as small as she, had wanted to seduce one that could nestle in his servo. If Eleaniris was not so small, she might have already started carrying their first sparkling. She would have given in long ago without this persistent fear.

He stopped stroking Susan's helm, practicing more of the reassuring gestures, when yet another ping came from the console. Susan skittered out from under his servo and off to the side as he removed it to open the door, not even noticing that the femme was looking at the still-online datapad.

" _This had better be important, Knockout."_ He eyed the mech before him as he sauntered into the office to stand before his desk, a hopeful look in the other's red optics.

" _I have a few questions about the procedure for converting humans-"_

Having heard this same question phrased multiple ways before by many different subordinates, Megatron interrupted with a terse " _No."_

" _You may not take a human female as your own. Not for the time being."_ Megatron laid out his rules sternly, thoroughly bored with having to repeat himself to lustful mechs. The hope that had been in the medic's faceplates vanished, to be replaced with disappointment and then neutrality an instant later.

" _Perhaps later."_ Susan's optics were growing wide at the synopsis of the report, typed in Cybertronian at the top of the page.  _Lord, please no. Don't do this to us, to Eleaniris! Hasn't enough happened to the human race without_ _ **this**_ _?_

" _If there is nothing else of importance,"_ Megatron impatiently spat, " _leave and refrain from coming in uninvited."_

" _My liege, there is also the question of her ability to carry."_ Knockout's optics shifted restlessly, ignoring completly the tiny femme on the tyrant's desk.

" _I was informed that she would be fine."_ Megatron snapped, pointing at the door and standing from his seat. " _Scalpel confirmed it for her. If you wish to test the capability, this can be done later and is of no consequence now."_

" _Leave."_ Knockout didn't need to be told twice, like all of the others that Megatron had had in his office that solar cycle. Susan immediately directed her attention elsewhere besides the datapad, not wanting to draw suspicion. She wasn't supposed to be able to read Cybertronian.

He clashed his claws, producing a sharp screeching sound as they scratched each other, as he gazed down at Susan. "You will tell no one of this," he threatened, knowing that this was what he was good at, "understood?"

"Yes." Susan agreed, wringing her servos. She tried to hide her nervousness with a hasty comment. "And you shouldn't leer at her like that, by the way. It's intimidating."

Megatron did not reply directly, but did stop the talon movement and set his servo down. "You will report here tomorrow." Using what he had learned, he offered her his servo and set her on the floor, "You may leave."

She nodded, walking out the door that he had opened with a command. She had thought she had seen it all, but that datapad had proven that evil could always go lower and it had no bottom. Hell was only just starting for humanity, she was sure of that.

And as for the "gentleness lessons" he wanted, she wasn't sure what to think of those.  _Caring? Pah! Impossible for someone like him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the imagination!


	53. The Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Some serious scenes with dubious consent.

It took awhile for her to stop crying, but gentle reassuring touches and exhaustion made her calm down a little more. Tears still ran down her cheeks, but she was no longer screaming and sobbing loudly. Inside she was chastising herself for showing weakness to mechs she didn't know and didn't trust.

Well, she was starting to trust Thundercracker a little more but she didn't want to think about how Starscream would react to this. Eleaniris pushed deeper into his servo when she saw Skywarp start to reach for her, fingers outstretched to pluck her up. She almost felt bad when Skywarp's faceplates fell, disappointed that she had cowered from him and didn't want him to hold her, and his servo dropped back to his side.

She clutched Thundercracker's chestplates, making the Seeker jump a little, "Do you want to stay with me, Eleaniris?" She nodded, making an effort not to look at the crestfallen Skywarp.

Thundercracker looked at Starscream, whose faceplates had remained emotionless and mysteriously guarded in a way that made her feel nervous and fearful. Starscream looked like a mafia boss that was debating what to do with a prisoner. "Take her." His voice didn't tell her anything about what he was thinking either. Great.

The midnight blue Seeker nodded, moving to go to the door. "Not yet." Starscream's voice sounded again and the Seeker holding her stopped. "Bring her here."

He obeyed, though reluctantly, and tilted his palm to slide her into Starscream's servo. "Perhaps," a lewd grin crossed his faceplates, making her optics widen in fear, " _we_  can make her feel better first."

"W-what do you mean?" Eleaniris shuddered, wishing she was back in Thundercracker's servo.

"I mean this." Starscream's lips met her own and smothered her face in the sloppy kiss. She squeaked and tried to push away, but the movement was futile. He had her pinned against his lip components, leaving no room for her to avoid him. She wriggled in protest, trying to turn her helm from the unwanted touch.  _Megatron would have left me alone by now._

Starscream pulled away, purring as his optics flashed. "We'll show you how Seekers make love. Just relax, and you'll enjoy it. I promise." He turned and went to lay her out on the platform, pinning her underneath a servo.

"You won't be needing these," he growled, roughly taking off her pelvic plates and making quick work of her chest ones afterward. "They make you smell like  _him_." Above her Skywarp nodded in agreement, leaving her to wonder how it could be there if a) she had taken a bath, especially with Skywarp's scrubbing and b) if Megatron hadn't touched her.

No. Even if their smelling sensors were better than hers, there was no way that the scent could be there. It was just some stupid comment about the attire he had torn off and cast out of her reach.

"So beautiful and all ours," Starscream bent to sniff at her and she growled at him angrily, trying to kick out since her servos were pinned. Skywarp's fingers came down over her legs to hold them down, his face hovering to her left.

"You're really pretty, Squeaker." Skywarp smirked, kissing her side briefly. "Megatron didn't deserve you."

"Why don't you open up, Seekerlet?" Starscream purred lustfully, making her want to shudder and crawl away to hide.

"O-open w-what?" Eleaniris asked fearfully, not wanting to know what they were referring to.  _If someone told me two years ago that I would be trapped in the Hoover Dam and about to be raped by three aliens, I would have had them tried for insanity._

"Your panel, Squeaker." Skywarp crooned, tapping on what she assumed was her "panel" at the apex of her thighs. "Just send a command."

"W-what if I d-don't?" She asked, hating the fear that she continued to show these monsters. Her gaze moved to settle on Thundercracker, her optics wide in a silent beg.  _Please!_ To her disappointment he didn't move, his faceplates only sympathetic.

"You will eventually," Skywarp purred, lowering his servo to somewhere on his own underbelly. Starscream saw this and moved his own servo, two simultaneous clicks sounding.

She writhed even more underneath Starscream and Skywarp, crying anew and screaming. "PLEASE!"

"Please what, little femme?" Starscream purred, eyeing her unclothed body.

"St-stop!" Eleaniris squirmed, the pulse in her chest growing faster and unhappier. It was making her long for Megatron all over again, and she had to admit…

She would rather be with him right now. He hadn't tried to rape her again since the first time, he hadn't tried to force himself on her, besides a few occasions where he got carried away.

_They were in the training room, the cavernous space lit up by the orange afternoon sun. As usual no others occupied the space and it was silent except for the clash of their blades, clanking and groaning of their moving gears, hiss of pumping pistons, and heavy venting as air swished in and out of their bodies to cool their heating frames. There were no spoken words until he broke their fragile truce, grinning as she tumbled between his legs and tried to slash at his back, only for him to turn halfway and block her swipe._

" _Good." The shrunken Megatron congratulated, knowing full well that "good" was not enough for her anymore. "Good" was not sufficient if next time one of his followers insulted her she was going to bury a dagger in one of their fuel lines. If she was lucky, the toxin in them would have a hangover-like effect._

_Bastards._

"' _Good' isn't enough," She bounced up and parried his own blow, jumping backwards to avoid his slash even though she knew that he never tried to hurt her. The blades he used were purposefully dulled so that they would leave minor scratches, if he hit her at all._

" _It's enough for me," he purred, optics flashing as she whirled yet again. She had noticed that they were coming to a wall, keeping all of her focus on the mech in front of her._

" _I beg to differ," she tried to snarl but ended up gasping from the lack of air in her vents. She was starting to get realllllly hot._

" _Don't you always," he purred again, swiping both of his blades at her abdomen in opposite directions and forcing her to jump backwards from them. His whole demeanor told her that this was child's play for him, making her angrier. He was humouring her, for his fighting right now was nothing compared to what he had done in those gladiator tapes._

_If he wanted to kill or hurt her, he could do so faster than she could bat an eye. If she had one to bat, that is._

" _Perhaps." She lunged forward, one dagger out to stab at his side which he had left unguarded for an instant. Megatron chuckled and swept upwards to block, making her retreat even further and hit the wall squarely with her back and making a sharp clang. He had left himself open on purpose as a ploy to get her to come closer._

_He approached her so that there was less than a foot's difference between them, a deep rumble from his chest making her want to shrink back. "Okay, you've won." She dropped her daggers to the black, thin padding of the floor with a dull thud. "Now give me some space."_

_Megatron's chuckle infuriated her as he continued to advance, stopping when she could feel his exhaust on the top of her helm. It came down in hot puffs, like snorts from an enormous dragon. He kissed her crown gently, his servos gingerly but firmly pinning her arms against the metal wall._ He must have subspaced his blades.

" _I hate you," she muttered, glaring at his chest since she couldn't see his optics; he was too tall, even as her own "size."_

_He crouched so that he was at optic level with her, locking gazes for a moment before diving in to nuzzle at her neck carefully, placing a few kisses there and muttering, "I don't hate you." She felt him vent inwards sharply, probably analysing her scent, before giving her a little lick._

_Megatron stepped back to look at her, purring like a huge cat before stealing a kiss from her gaping lips. Even though her mouth had been open in a gasp of mortification at his behaviour, he did not take advantage of it. The kiss was chaste yet passionate, betraying all of the lust he felt for her but also some strange kind of… respect? Nah. It couldn't have been._

_He was the one to break it, staring deep into her white pools with his red ones and nuzzling her faceplates gently, rubbing their nasal ridges together and offlining his optics for the shortest of moments. Then he retreated, typing into the subspace mass distributor on his wrist and restoring his old size._

_She scooped up her daggers and resheathed them hastily, anticipating the moment when he bent and picked her up gently. The whole walk up was silent except for his steps and the occasional greeting from a subordinate._ How dare he kiss her like that? How dare he?

Her optics wandered downwards and she got a glimpse of something hugging the undersides of both Skywarp's and Starscream's respective bellies, but she shuttered them as soon as she realized what they were.

And that they were not going to fit. Not without splitting her like a rotten piece of fruit.

Was this really worth it? Was Megatron so bad to her that she would allow herself to be taken this way?  _He's not someone you should cry out to for help,_ a part of her snarled at the unsure part,  _he's your enemy, for God's sake!_

 _But is he really,_ whispered the weak voice of the submissive side of her she had stifled since she was a Senator.  _Remember what he said about these things?_

_She had just asked Megatron for humanity's freedom and his adamant, permanent refusal had sparked another argument between them. At this point she had surmised that it would take more for Megatron to hurt her than to hurt others, even those in his Command. If any of them or a human slave had mouthed off like she had, she was sure that they would have been pulverized by one of those huge servos on the first transgression. As it was, however, he would simply refuse her Energon or keep her locked up in his apartments._

_Mild punishments, to be truthful. He would always give her Energon the next morning or let her out after a few days. There was no doubt in her mind that it was just another ploy to get her to give in; once she succumbed to his "big softie" displays and let him seduce her, that would be when he got around his no-rape rule and made her his sex slave forever._

" _Eleaniris, I have told you already that it is the place of humanity to serve us. Relax, precious, and enjoy the luxury you live in." He said this nonchalantly, pouring another glass of high-grade Energon for himself from the huge decanter-like container. "Not many femmes have had this opportunity."_

" _How can you say that?" She stomped her pede on the surface of their dining table, gesturing angrily with her servos and making her skirts billow slightly with movement. "It's just so_ wrong _."_

" _How so?" Megatron took a sip from his drink, his optics only slightly narrowed._ Does he really not get why? How dense  _is_ he?

_He swallowed crisply, venting contently as he said, "Besides, humans have enslaved each other prior to our incorporation." He always called the Invasion and destruction of her home "incorporation," like he had bought out Earth and added it to his corporate Empire. It always got under her metal skin to prick at her heart with its sharp needle. "In fact, the United States Government sanctioned the practice, precious. The government you used to run_ _**allowed** _ _it." He raised an optic ridge at her and took another sip from his glass in a self- assured way, as if he had already won._

What do you take me for, some kind of fool? Puh-lease. I took a US History course in high school, aside from majoring in it at  _Harvard_.  _Although his point was a good one, she had one that was even better._

" _Well," she began, trying to keep her composure, "do you know what my political party was founded on, Megatron?" If she was someone else and gave such sass to him, she would be a metal pancake on the table right now._

_He looked as if he was searching for something on the internet, his seemingly frozen stare telling her as much. "It was founded upon freeing said slaves. Do you know who our first President was from aforementioned party?"_

" _Abraham Lincoln,_ _ **sir**_ _. So don't you lecture me about how my government sanctioned this or allowed that. The founding belief of my political party goes against what you've been doing, and it makes you my enemy."_

_He set down his half-full cube and began with a cruel smirk on his face, "I am not your official enemy, precious." The patient and amused tone hadn't changed at all to her chagrin._

" _And why, pray tell, is_ _ **that**_ _?" She crossed her arms and quirked a ridge quizzically._

_His chuckle elevated her irritation and he rumbled smugly, "Article I, Section 8, Clause 11 provides that only Congress can declare war, little flower." The Emperor raised a single clawed finger to the underside of her chin, forcing her to look up at his optics. "The President cannot."_

_If his talon wasn't keeping her jaw closed, it would have fallen open in shock. "How did you-"_

" _I did my research after our last discussion of Constitutional powers." He dropped his claw but kept the servo it belonged to close to her body. "My point still stands; I am not your official enemy, Eleaniris, because your Congress did not declare war on me."_ Because you killed them all, bastard, before they even had a chance.

Before any of us had a chance to do anything, really.

_She couldn't argue well with his statement. It was the final nail in her coffin. After that she had just shut up, letting him finish his drink in victorious silence with a knowing ghost of a smirk on his faceplates. The discussion never came up again but both agreed that he had won._

_When didn't he?_

His point had raised serious doubt in her mind. Even though he was both her moral enemy and her political one, his ideas had been good enough to defeat her.

She just laid on the platform, crying and limp and unsure. Skywarp released her legs only to move his servo upwards to poke at her chest, making her cry out at the sharp jabs. He looked oddly concerned for a moment, staring downwards at her pinned form beneath him.

"Are you alright, little Squeaker?"

"No! Of course I'm not!" Her strained voice made Skywarp's decision unsure in his processor. Everybody knew that stressed mates didn't produce strong sparklings, and if they went through with this how unhappy would she be with him? Nevertheless he kept kissing at her, nudging her with his nasal ridge carefully.

Starscream was becoming more rough in his attentions, however, making her body rub against the cement of the platform. "Please! Stop!" She sounded very angry, tired, stressed and scared. Skywarp made his decision and retracted his pressurized spike, as painful as it was, and tried to convince Starscream to leave her alone.

"Come on, Starscream. She won't carry as well if we force her." Skywarp released her legs and moved his servo to the back of his trinemate.

Starscream shrugged him off angrily and pushed Skywarp away, making her shriek and try to curl up into a ball as best as her pinned-down form could. With Skywarp out of the way, Starscream settled himself over her completely, peering down at her with his wicked optics. Eleaniris squirmed even more and kicked her legs, trying not to focus on what awaited her by Starscream's underbelly.

No, she couldn't tell Megatron about this. She wouldn't break and cry to him for help yet  _ **again**_. As if she could, anyway, while she was inside the dam. The four football fields thick of concrete blocked her comm. signals.

Instead she turned her gaze to Thundercracker, again begging for assistance with wide white optics. Something clicked in the processor behind those faceplates and the midnight-blue jet opened his mouth to protest, "Starscream, she's not ready."

The Seeker he was addressing snarled, turning around to glare at his trinemate, "I don't  _care_  if she is ready," Eleaniris flinched at both the meaning and screechiness of his words, "She is here, and that is all that matters."

"Besides, perhaps she shouldn't carry our sparklings if she doesn't have a t-cog." Starscream cocked his helm at her, studying her frame with an intense red gaze. "Perhaps she should only be a pleasurebot, a toy for the base to use."

Thundercracker kept helping her, to her surprise. "Maybe she has coding for one, even if she doesn't physically have a t-cog. We should wait until any decisions are made, Starscream." He winked at her, so fast that she wasn't sure that that had happened. "If you force her now, you might damage her psychologically and she won't make a very strong carrier."

"Yeah!" Skywarp supported. He couldn't contribute much to the argument, but he did want little Squeaker to be comfortable with cuddling with him. That was one of the reasons he had decided to leave her alone, along with the fact that her cuddling with him  _and_  their sparklings made his spark pulse with satisfaction. The usually cruel mech though it would be just so  _adorable_.

"And besides, maybe you should bond with her in front of Megatron, when you have won, just to prove how weak he really is." The way Thundercracker's optics shifted from Starscream to her and back again told her that his horrifying words weren't true, much to her relief. She had seen that look plenty of times in D.C. in the faces of politicians that were making a false promise in the hopes of being able to get something else. Usually it was reelection, but sometimes it was the first warning of a political backstab.

Starscream peered at her and growled, this one dangerous and mortally threatening unlike the ones Megatron had given to her before, making her want to shrink back into the concrete. "Very well. I will wait to bond with her until Megatron's imminent demise." He purred and his optics flashed brightly in an intense display of passion.  _Why does he hate Megatron so much?_

"But since you're so  _eager_ ," he plucked her up carelessly and tossed her at Thundercracker, who caught her in a precisely outstretched servo, " _You_ can take care of her."

Thundercracker wasted no time in leaving the room, Skywarp not following them down the passage. He left her skirts behind on the platform, however, in his rush to leave.  _What made him help me? What made_ _ **Skywarp**_   _help me? The latter has killed_ _ **millions**_ _, but he won't rape me?_

She was silent, still shell-shocked when he muttered so lowly that she could barely hear over the boom of his footsteps, "We shouldn't have stayed here." Was he talking about the location of the base or the planet?

She cocked her helm at him, not able to form words at the moment.  _That was_ _ **so**_   _close._ "Humanity was never our true opponent. Humanity was never an  _honorable_  opponent." His voice hadn't risen and she wondered if he was even aware that he was speaking aloud.

That notion disintegrated when he lowered his gaze from off in the distance to Eleaniris. "You shouldn't be here, like this.  _This_ ," he gestured to her metal body, "shouldn't have happened."  _These are not the words of someone that wants to use me for a voyeuristic display of victory. He saved me by making a false promise, by dangling a carrot in front of Starscream._

"What has happened here has soiled the Decepticon name,"  _Is this really happening right now? Am I dreaming? Could Decepticons like this really exist? "_ and, madame President, I can't say how disgusted I am by all of this."  _ **Madame President**_ _? Am I hearing this correctly? Is he apologizing in his own way, because God-forbid a Decepticon say "I'm sorry?"_

Her jaw dropped as she gawked at the Seeker holding her. His gaze immediately ripped away and he guarded his expression, making it hard again as he continued on his journey down the passageway.  _He's still a Decepticon, not wanting to apologise._

_Just not a human-hating one._

* * *

"Are you ready for this?" Burns whispered to Lennox, suddenly glad that he had left behind the more-than-capable Epps to lead Nation in his (possibly permanent) absence.

"No." Lennox's jaw was clenched in anger, though it was slightly more subtle than it had been yesterday. He was twisting the golden band on his left hand like mad, probably thinking about his recently-rescued wife at the base. "But it must be done, right?"

Burns nodded grimly, looking back at the gleaming palace in the late afternoon sun. If it hadn't been built by their invaders and enslavers, it would have been a truly beautiful place worthy of being called the eighth Wonder of the World.

"So how does this work? We just walk in there?" Lennox asked incredulously, although Burns believed that it was probably rhetorical and just to make a point about how ridiculous all of this was.

Burns crouched and started out of the forest, answering Lennox but not looking at him, "Yup. Come on, soldier, we've got orders."

Lennox, clothes still damp from the purposeful bath in the river, followed in a similar position. He had suggested that they rinse off in the river so that Megatron would not smell Eleaniris on them and get the wrong idea. He might figure out that Eleaniris was with the resistance effort, or wrongly surmise that they had kidnapped her for ransom or killed her somehow.

If they even made it to him, that is. One of his "soldiers" - brutes, if you asked Lennox - might gun them down and put a single laser shot through their brains before they even spoke to him.  _Another reason why this plan is so stupid_ , Lennox thought.

They made it to the back door, miraculously, and dove inside the human maintenance tunnel. "You've done this before, right?" Burns asked, watching the corners of the passage for any sudden guard appearances.

"Yes." Lennox answered curtly, keeping his voice low to avoid an unwanted echo. "Do you want me to lead the way?"

"Affirmative, soldier." Burns gave him a grim smile, which Lennox returned only half-heartedly.

Lennox started to creep down the dim, metal hallway, making sure his footsteps were light "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Supposedly he has an office somewhere on this level. If we can find him-" They turned the corner and were promptly met with a few guards, a maid, and a Harley Davidson-looking bot.

Their hands immediately shot up in surrender. Though his heart was pounding in his ears, Burns managed to say, "We have information regarding your missing Queen and wish to see Megatron."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note: Eleaniris' political party was chosen at the flip of a coin when I was writing that scene. Just so you know. 
> 
> Reviews are hardly ever never unwelcome.


	54. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

The guards wasted no time in surrounding them, keeping their weapons trained on the two humans. The Harley Davidson robot stayed where he was but dismissed the maid, letting the woman scurry away with her normal-looking janitorial cart. Absently Burns noticed the uniform she was wearing, complete with finely-pressed pants and long-sleeved shirt, a purple skirt-styled apron around her waist.

The silver insignia on the hair clip over her ear would have made him clench his fists if it wouldn't have provoked the guards. Soon her neatly braided head was gone around one of the corners in the passageway.  _Irregardless, very extravagant for a bunch of slaves._

The motorcycle looked at both men,contemplating them with blood-coloured eyes, but said nothing. Nothing they could understand, anyway. It sounded like a bunch of beeps, whirrs, and clicks. There were several intermittent pauses in which the revolutionaries wondered if he was about to give the order for the guards to execute them, bringing an abrupt end to their lives.

After several minutes of back-and-forth the robot before them spoke with a smooth baritone, "Come, humans. Lord Megatron wishes to speak with you."

 _Probably do more than speak,_ Burns thought. Evidently there would be no argument, for the guards pushed them forward roughly. The black motorcycle led the way through the halls, Burns feeling that his heart might burst through his chest at any given moment. Though he was trained as a Marine to stay level-headed in the most strenuous of situations and was sure that he was calm on the outside, inside he felt a burning fear and nervousness.

And he hadn't even met Megatron yet. No doubt he would be quite intimidating.

The guards did not touch them but flanked them, keeping the pace almost at a run. It didn't help Burns' beating heart. To his right Lennox was twisting madly at the marriage band on his left hand, betraying a sign of anxiety that did not show elsewhere in his features. The ranger's jaw was clenched slightly and his brown eyes remained focused ahead of him, filled with a fiery light.

Even at their fast pace a quarter of an hour must have passed before they were directed out of the hallway and into a darker, larger room beyond. It seemed to go on for forever to the small, short humans, row of oversized monitors upon row of oversized monitors being the only light provided in the space. A few of the robots working there looked up when they entered but soon went back to their work, disinterested in what had lost its novelty.

There was another fifteen minutes of walking on gleaming metal floors, during which they passed a huge throne in what appeared to be the center of the cavernous room. Burns kept his eyes away from it, surmising who it belonged to.  _Bastard._

Now they stood before an enormous panel in the wall, marked with strange alien symbols along the side. The one that had been leading them knocked on the metal, making a dulled clanging sound similar to a regular iron door knocker.

It slid open soundlessly, the next room no brighter than the last. A pair of bigger, seemingly redder robotic eyes peered at them from behind a monstrous alien desk, belonging to their conqueror. The guards shoved them in and the huge behemoth spoke in the foreign tongue, his voice a deeper, bone-chilling tone that almost felt as if it vibrated the metal underneath their booted feet.

Burns cursed his imagination. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that his voice was that strong.

Maybe when they got closer it would be.

The guards and motorcycle bowed when their leader was done speaking, shouting a series of "words" in unison and leaving the humans alone with their commander.

Megatron stood from his desk, stepping around it and scooping them up before either of them could react. He swept them off their feet in his huge, deadly, clawed hands with a roughness that made Burns' teeth clatter against each other. He tried not to look at the talons inches away from his comparably unprotected body, avoiding reflection on how many Presidents, Prime Ministers, dictators and royalty had met their end by those silver, sharp points.

But not Eleanor, for a reason undetermined. Nothing made sense whenever Nation had put their most brilliant minds together to try to connect the pieces of the grand puzzle, only for no conclusions to be made except that not enough was known about the situation. They had no concrete knowledge of Megatron's underlying motivations, and from the writings that they had received from the "Queen" Eleanor wasn't completly sure either. They had a few guesses but nothing concrete.

They were dumped carelessly on the metal surface of their invader's desk, and once Burns sat upright he marveled at the sheer size and enormity that was their assailant, that was his President's disgusting suitor. His body language reeked of Alpha Male, of  _I always get what I want_  and  _I will always take what I want._

It should have come as no surprise; it had only taken that enormous titan two days to conquer the once-formidable United States. On the very first day Burns remembered watching the news, his wife having gone to work, seeing that very giant fell skyscrapers with a single blast from his arm cannon and withstand machine gun fire like rain, the bullets not even denting his armor. He hadn't seen his wife since that fateful day, or even heard from her. He hoped in his heart that she was working for Nation, but it was impossible to tell since everyone used code names in written communication.

The monstrous hands slammed onto the table on either side of the two men, making them crumple again as the shockwave rippled through the surface. "WHERE." He snarled, fangs shining even in the dim light.

"IS." The anger of the heinous murderer before them felt as if it washed through the air in a cold baptism, making Lennox's stomach clench in fear despite his Army training.  _Fear is logical,_ he reminded himself. Instead he too tried to be angry. Showing that was less likely to be taken as a sign of weakness to the roaring colossus over him. Truly the television had done him no justice; like many things he had to be seen to be believed.

Even then Megatron was a hard pill to swallow. How Eleanor had managed being  _licked_ and  _kissed_ by such a mountainous, titanic beast he might never know, much less understand. No wonder she had been whimpering in her sleep, receiving attention from such a huge monster and the one that had ripped away her life.

"SHE?" Small specks of slime from the Decepticon Emperor dusted their bodies, illustrating the extent of the beast's anger. Eleanor had described being covered in that stuff unwillingly, and Burns felt for her. The sight of that huge, writhing, powerful-looking tongue only increased his sorrow for her. He remembered Simmons commenting that Megatron was trying to romance their President, and Burns wondered absently if licking was some kind of mating ritual among the robots.

He held up his hands in surrender, standing from the metal and looking up at the face of their enslaver. His fangs were stilled bared but he was waiting for an answer, red eyes narrowed and focused on the small humans on his desk.

"We have come to make a bargain, if you will hear us out." Burns thanked his lucky stars that no stutter had found its way into his voice, though it resided in his rapidly pumping heart.

The behemoth reclaimed his seat, resting himself with a groan of metal and clicking of gears. Even sitting he towered over the two humans, Megatron was pleased to note. He raised an optic ridge at the one trying to bargain, holding up its tiny, fleshy hands in a show of submission. Under different circumstances he would have been greatly amused; no human had begged him like this since some of their leaders had during the first days of his takeover.

He had humoured them, played around a bit, prodding for this and that to get their hopes up before crushing their hope and red, fluid-filled bodies in a single servo. Cowardice displeased him, and he had seen many beg for mercy on their knees moments before he killed them. Eleaniris was one of the few that tried to put on a brave face.  _Cute little thing. I can't wait to mark you as my mate._

Megatron almost groaned at the thought of giving her his mark, the one he had wanted to place on Circuitsia. It was all he could do to keep his optics from the paintings of his little incubus, the second now hanging proudly on the wall opposite the beach one. His spike might pressurize further if he cast his gaze over her perfect body.  _She must be regained first,_ his processor reminded him with a whisper.

The human had the gall to interrupt his lustful thoughts, continuing with its inferior agenda. "We are willing to make a trade." It gulped, little throat constricting in the movement he had liked to watch human Eleanor make when she ate the delicacies he had always given her. Megatron saw in its organic eyes a single flicker of doubt, of anger, until it went on to clarify.

"Information regarding Eleanor," it said, "for the freedom of humanity." Wet optics looked up at him, hope there that he would listen and accept. How he  _craved_ to crush that fragile emotion.

"I have a better idea." Megatron growled, his arms moving to encircle the two men. " _You_  tell  _me_ where  _you_ put her and  _I_ spare your  _pathetic_ lives." Burns glanced at Lennox, who nodded for him to go on before they were crushed. Right as he was going to explain the giant picked up the ranger in a fist, raising the man to his face and shaking him.

"Where IS she?  **EXPLAIN** , FLESHLING!" Lennox would have covered his ears at the deafening voice if his arms weren't pinned to his sides. Worse, the tyrant seemed to have smelled something. He was "breathing" harder, deeper, like a dog sniffing for a scent. The nose-like plating was moved to his hair, blowing it as the leviathan smelled him. Lennox was sure to stay deathly still, afraid of calling the giant out of his apparent trance.

"I thought…" Megatron muttered almost incoherently, his red eyes taking on a far-away, almost forlorn look and then switching right back to hard anger and stubborn hate. The great head shook itself, oddly similar to how a human would if they were clearing their mind.

 _Did he smell her on me? Maybe not, since he seems unsure and he would have started pulling limbs by now._ Even through the haze of danger and adrenaline, Lennox had to wonder what made this monster so protective of President Sherman.

 _Maybe she tastes good,_ he thought sickeningly.

The momentary sad look in their destroyer's eyes was not something that escaped Burns' notice and curiosity either.  _Good idea Lennox. The river might have just saved our lives._

Taking a chance he shouted up at the angry Decepticon, "We don't have her! If you set Lennox down, I can explain!" Megatron narrowed his optics but did not set Lennox down at all, prompting him to elaborate regardless.

"We were following her through the forest, keeping an eye on her and for any of your patrols. We stayed at a distance so that she wouldn't be spooked by us,"  _hopefully that eliminates his possible thought of Eleanor's scent being on Lennox,_ "and eventually she came to one of your fuel plants. Lennox here can say more about what he saw." Burns looked up at his partner hopefully, passing the torch.

"She was coming back out, probably having taken some fuel, when three of those jets landed around her." Lennox noted the way the Decepticon leader's jaw clenched but went on nonetheless, "I believe they were named Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Starscream. Skywarp picked her up and vanished out of nowhere, but not before she tried to defend herself with these." Lennox wriggled, trying to get at his pack, and miraculously the hand opened and flattened underneath him.

Taking off his pack and unzipping it, he carefully pulled out her daggers and held them within clear sight of the tyrant. His red eyes saddened greatly but again the anger came back to wash it away.  _What is going on in that metal head?_

Megatron was mostly listening out of interest with what tale the resistance was trying to spin, not really believing it and wanting to crush them so he could leave and search for his Queen, until he saw the human "Lennox" show him Eleaniris' daggers.  _I scared you into running away, little one. Regardless of whether Starscream has you or not, I_ _ **will**_ _get you back._

" **Prove**  to me that she was there.  **Prove** that you haven't taken her and locked her away." Megatron growled, letting his red optics burn into the two humans. If they had her somewhere in a dark cell, he would rip apart every single human that got in his way and tried to hide her. No one  _stole_ anything from the Emperor of Destruction, let alone  _kidnapped_ his  _mate_.

Burns and Lennox glanced at each other, unsure of how to prove it. Though the robot had calmed somewhat, if they failed to provide evidence of their tale he could easily decapitate them and leave their bodies for one of the palace slaves to clean up.  _Come on, think of something._

"I have not  _yet_ cut out your organic glossas, fleshbags.  **Speak**." Megatron's ire was returning, manifesting itself in the claws by either of them as the clicked over Lennox's head and dragged lightly against the shiny surface by Burn's legs. It was still hard to comprehend his enormity.

"I…" Burns started, grasping about for something,  _anything_  that could provide evidence and save their lives. They had gotten through this horrible, atrocious deal so far. Megatron still had yet to speak about humanity's freedom, but they were in no position to get him to agree to anything they had in their trade.

"You  _must_ have surveillance footage." Lennox offered, breaking the deadly silence. "I don't think anyone saw, so it's possible that it was simply not reported to you."

Megatron raised an optic ridge, intrigued. Humans could be incredibly crafty when their insignificant lives were at stake, making them interesting to play around with before terminating them. They would beg and plead for mercy, prompting to reply that he had none. He received tremendous thrill from having control over life and death, even of creatures so small, weak and insubstantial. Nevertheless he commed for Soundwave to fetch the video from the mainframe, if it existed.

"If what you say is true, human," Megatron intoned with intrigue, "why tell me of this?" He chuckled morbidly and drawled, sitting back in his seat, "I did take your world's  _strongest, fiercest_ leader for myself, after all." He took the knives from Lennox and placed them on the table along with the pack, and toyed with the soldier in his hand, turning him introspectively between sharp fingers though he was looking at Burns.  _I wonder if he ever played with Eleanor like that._

The blatant disregard for life sickened him, but he answered the question anyway. "We agreed that she was safer with you." Burns shifted his weight, willing that the Decepticon would not press further.

"How so?" Megatron didn't stop his movements, much to Burns' chagrin. His disgust was beyond words.

"She looked healthy when I followed her." Lennox growled, trying to push at the fingers rolling him. He tried to avoid thinking about how his President would have felt in that very grasp. "And we don't know anything about these other robots."

Trying to steer the conversation - more like interrogation - back to the main focus, Burns tried to remind him, "In exchange for this information, you are to declare the manumission of the human race."

 _There's the real reason,_ Megatron thought smugly,  _cowardly as ever, these humans._ "You are aware that you are trading my rights to Eleaniris for the freedom of humanity, yes?"

The two men nodded grimly, neither of their eyes meeting his optics.  _Eleaniris, would you have defended humanity so if you knew they were using you to get what they want?_ He would be sure to bring this up when he got her back in her home in his lap. Perhaps that would whittle down her persistent defense of the pathetic parasites.

He replied vaguely, "Something will be done when my Queen is returned to me." Then, smug as any first-class dictator, the Emperor added darkly, "You have my word."

They released sighs from their lungs, which Megatron only had knowledge of due to his study of human first aid prior to fetching the human Eleanor. He hadn't wanted to lose her to death as he had Circuitsia, and had always been sure to carry extra coverings, food, water, and a set of bandages and salves. Thankfully he had never had to use them for Eleanor, but they had had plenty of "close calls," as she would say.

How he missed her. Against his will his optics turned to the walls, gazing over her paintings. With any luck she would be found soon and he would no longer recharge alone.

Burns and Lennox followed the alien's gaze to the walls, their fists clenching when they saw the paintings of their President.  _Something is wrong here,_ Burns thought,  _very, very wrong. We are missing a huge piece of the puzzle, one that decides what the rest looks like._ A single ping killed further reflection and the giant finally dropped Lennox and pressed a button out of their sight.

Soundwave entered with a datapad, Megatron mildly surprised that the humans had been telling him the truth. The mech did not spare the bugs a second glance but did lay his cargo on the warlord's desk. " _The footage is there, my liege. Do you wish for anything else?"_

Megatron responded in his deep Cybertronian, " _Send orders for a cell to be prepared. These ones will be with me for some time. You are dismissed."_ He dipped his helm in acknowledgment of his leader and left to return to his duties of supervising warship launches. Perhaps, if he had the opportunity, he could sneak away and comm. Grace.

"Let's see…" Megatron drawled, taking the huge tablet that the other robot had put down. He opened it with a claw, bringing up a video. It was transparent, allowing them to view it even though the metal alien held it in the air over their heads. Sure enough, visible in the corner, was the confrontation with Eleanor, Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp.

After the clip had ended when Skywarp had disappeared and Thundercracker and Starscream left in their jet forms -  _Why didn't they just hold on to Skywarp? -_ Megatron put down the tablet and turned it off.

"So you were telling the truth." He contemplated them, crossing his arms over his chest. "What to do with you now? You are rebels, after all."

"How do you know that we are rebels?" Megatron chuckled at the display, humans always thought that they were so very  _clever_.

"Your proposed trade shows cooperation with a larger organization. It is unlikely that two humans would come here to bargain while risking their worthless lives." He quirked his lip components in a smirk, pushing the unseen button again for the door to open. The same silver Mercedes stood, waiting, and came in.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you." he drawled lazily, "Soundwave here will escort you to your, ah,  _room_."

" _I have changed my plans. You are to place them with the other that we are holding. It is amusing to see them try to escape me."_ Soundwave took the men and left again, allowing the tyrant his space to plan and consult the admirals of his ships. Eleaniris needed to be found before Starscream offlined her, or did something worse to his helpless little flower.

He contemplated the daggers that had been left on his desk, venting slowly, as he pulled up the comm. link with the several admirals. They should respond immediately, and then he could plan how to kill the traitor and regain his Queen. She would be found alive, he told himself. He wasn't going to let her slip through his fingers again.

If it was necessary the Justice Division would assist. In fact, he rather liked the thought of Tarn scaring Eleaniris into his open arms. Then she would be more grateful for his protection, rank, and power in the Decepticon forces. Then he could practice some of the reassuring gestures that he had already known but Susan had refined.

* * *

"Grace, it was so  _awful_. How could anyone be so cold-hearted to order such a thing?"

"Susan, Susan. Please." It was awkward for Grace to comfort the older woman, since the past couple of years had their roles reversed usually. Susan was like a mother to her, like a mother to all of them really. Especially for Eleaniris. It was strange that she suddenly had to be the strong one.

They were standing in one of the back storage rooms of the library, among empty datapads and underneath cool blue light. They had been assisting the librarians lately, mainly working in the back and fetching the heavy datapads when needed. Grace had been here when Susan had come in weeping, not even telling her what the source was by making generic statements about something terrible.

"E-Eleanris is the only one that can st-stop t-this. She is the only one that has a c-chance, however slim it is that she can change the mind of that mon-monster." Against Susan's will her mind kept showing her the picture of the summary of the orders that lay in that damned tablet. Times like this she cursed her photographic memory.

Grace let the older woman burying her face into her shoulder, wetting her plating with what Soundwave called coolant while she sobbed and heaved. "She h-has to k-know what he is going to do. Talia should too, because Shockwave w-wrote it."

"But we can't comm. her... " Grace bit her lip, pondering how Eleaniris could be reached. She had tried many times since she had seen Megatron last, only to be met with an error message saying that the recipient could not be found. It was different than the static-like noise that was heard if the call was waiting to be answered or rejected, similar to a ringing on a phone. Soundwave had also mentioned that dead silence meant that the intended recipient was dead.

Silence with "recipient not found" was something she had not received before.

"I can ask Soundwave, but I need you to give me a moment. Is that okay Susan?" The older femme nodded, still sobbing but a little quieter now. Grace gave her a look of sympathy and rubbed the other's back one more time before stepping away.

" _Soundwave,"_ Grace murmured shyly in the way that she knew drove him crazy, " _can I talk to you real quick?"_

His rumble of pleasure came clear through their connection as his deep voice cooed, " _Of course. But make haste, precious. The consequences for disobeying Megatron's direct orders are always great."_

" _Is there a way to talk to Eleaniris besides the comm. link? Is there any other way at all? Now mine isn't working with her, and I'm afraid."_

" _How isn't it working? Is it silence?"_ Soundwave sounded worried now, and gone was his playful banter. If Eleaniris was offline, Megatron would be angrier than words in any of his language packs could describe. Soundwave had witnessed him mourn - though it was not Decepticon custom - Circuitsia with a ceaseless fury. Should he have been asked to pick a point in history when his lord's hate of Optimus Prime had become no longer "professional" (so to speak) but more "personal," he would pick the moment that the Prime had killed Circuitsia.

" _I keep recieving an error message, something about her not being found or whatever. But is there another way to contact her?"_

Soundwave could have kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier. If he hadn't been so busy thinking about Grace's absence from her usual place in his lap and about the launching of the warships he might have remembered. " _Borealis, Eleaniris' gryphon, shares a mental link with her. It might be possible, if she is somewhere connections do not work."_

" _Should we tell Megatron?"_ Grace asked him worriedly over the comm., biting her lip in concentration.

" _I will be the one to tell him. I must leave now, little bird._ _Is breá liom tú_ _."_ Grace smiled despite herself as he said "I love you" in Irish. Ever since she had shown an attachment to her land of birth in her shouting match with Megatron, he had been throwing little phrases in here and there. Some of them she didn't know the meaning of and had to tell him so, to which he would chuckle and say them in English. This one, though, her parents and grandparents had used many times with her.

" _Is breá liom tú."_ She cooed back, closing the sequence for the comm. link. This was perfect! Since Soundwave was "at work" she and Susan could sneak into her mate's quarters, where Wheelie and Borealis had been staying in the Queen's absence. Grace had a hunch that Megatron wasn't recharging in his own apartments, if he was recharging at all, and had moved them for this reason.

Perhaps they, and his suite, reminded him of Eleaniris. Regardless, she told Susan of their opportunity and the two went straight up to Soundwave's quarters, the latter finding hope in her heart that Eleaniris might stop the dreadful things that were in store for the human race.

* * *

Knockout had finished with his work, setting aside the datapad that had documented the procedure for Cyberformation. It was a breakthrough, that he was sure of. Making organics into viable mate material had been an excellent idea, though he was worried over what had possessed his leader to choose a  _particular_ weak organic as a mate and then had the procedure  _designed_ around her. Nevertheless that small detail would not deter him from scouting out his own prospective polisher.

There were other femmes on record that had gone through the procedure, and he would start with those first. Looking at the Decepticon file of a random one showed that she worked in the library of the palace, sending the medic on his way.

"How can we serve you?" Kimora greeted the Aston Martin, eyeing the way he swaggered in. She didn't trust mechs she didn't know what to expect of, but her processor told her it would be fine. Bonecrusher had commed her to say that he would be visiting later "on a professional trip only," he had joked. There were always a few kisses and gifts involved when he came to fetch information. In other words, it was hardly ever strictly professional.

The red optics darted down to study her, causing her to shift nervously. He picked her up abruptly, making her squeal embarrassingly. She only did that when Bonecrusher laid one on her.

"Good, strong frame." The mech studied her limbs, fingering each one with his other servo. She glowered at him and opened her mouth to speak, only for him to cut her off with, "Pretty optics, too." He looked at her in the optics for the first time, cocking his helm.

"How good are you with a polishing cloth?"

"I don't even  _know_ you! Put me down!" Kimora wriggled in his grasp, not caring if it was quite the fall to the floor. Her body could probably handle it.

The mech tsked, "Name's Knockout, beautiful. And is that how you should speak to your future mate?"

Flabbergasted with the overwhelming cockiness of the mech holding her, Kimora let her mouth hang open.

Thankfully Knockout was cut off from any more  _forward_ remarks by a welcome, familiar, growling voice. "She's already claimed, medic. Go polish yourself and leave  **my** mate alone."

Knockout turned, giving her a view of Bonecrusher as he stood in the doorway. His body language projected territorial, testosterone-soaked possessiveness. She might have giggled if it wasn't such a stressful situation. "Bonecrusher!" Kimora called, squirming even harder in "Knockout's" grasp.

Bonecrusher snarled and gnashed his claws, hunching up his shoulders to appear bigger. "Are you challenging me, medic? You know how this ends."

Knockout knew, and set the femme on the ground as quickly as he could. She scampered off to stand behind the towering legs of her mate, staying in his shadow. Remembering the formal words and in fear of his paint job being ruined, he said clearly, "I renounce."

Bonecrusher relaxed a modicum, keeping his optics on Knockout as he bent to scoop up his scared mate into a servo. He gave the medic one last, warning snarl and walked away to a different part of the library, leaving the cocky medic to keep searching.

"What was that?" Kimora asked fearfully, looking up at the Bonecrusher's sand-colored faceplates. The atmosphere had implied that the words of both mechs held more than a mere surrender, that it was, in fact, traditional and bore some significant meaning.

"Among the Decepticons, precious, mates are regarded as special assets. So much so that sometimes one mech will challenge another for a mate. Typically only the Dominants are the ones that fight in these formal Challenges."

"And you're the Dominant?" Kimora asked warily.

"Yes." Bonecrusher chuckled and said playfully, "Naturally, since I'm bigger than you Kims." He had oversimplified a bit, but the other factors were not ones he thought Kimora was ready to hear yet.

She scoffed but gestured for him to elaborate. He smirked and clarified, "The fights are to termination, and the survivor is the one that keeps or earns the Submissive at stake. No one else can intervene in a Challenge once it has begun, though usually Challenges are not held over already-bonded femmes."

"So the Submissive has no say in what happens to them?" Kimora cocked her helm to the side, letting Bonecrusher's stride rock her in his servo.

"No." Bonecrusher's smirk grew wider, "That's what 'Submissive' means, Kims." She should have expected that the Decepticons would have such societal norms. They were such domineering and possessive creatures, why wouldn't they fight to the death over a girl? It was pretty romantic, when she thought about it.

"And if Knockout had actually challenged you-" she started fearfully, only for him to finish.

"I would have won," Bonecrusher reassured, "and you would owe me a few kisses for saving you."

She giggled and punched at the large Decepticon playfully, making the mech chuckle at her adorable display, "What did you need to check out again?"

"You." He leered, lowering his helm to rain down kisses on her body. She laughed at how quickly he had learned human pick-up lines. As she went to try to fight him off of her, jokingly of course, she remembered  _Submissive. I wonder if Eleaniris ever had those rules explained to her._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help wanted. Apply via review! :D


	55. The Unlikely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

_She was searching for something, wandering aimlessly in a dark void. Someone was calling for her with such desperation and longing in their voice, but she did not know who it was. Every time she made a move towards the sound it would seemingly change location, usually to somewhere behind her._

_She suspected that it was the cry of her people as they were crushed under the force of the Decepticon heel, forced to give up some of their own women to be the mates of their conquerors. Yet it also sounded deep, masculine, singular, as if it was coming from an individual who, in the dream, she could not name._

Eleaniris jolted awake, feeling unseen optics watching her. Thundercracker had left her in his quarters to recharge alone, much to her surprise. But considering his words of semi-apology, perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Regardless, he had assured her that the door was locked.

It was a relatively shoddy, improvised door. She doubted the integrity it would have against an enormous, evil robot that wanted to get inside. It was dangerous to engage in the belief that one would be protected.

She had learned that long ago, on the first day of the Invasion. She remembered thinking, rather foolhardily now that was reflecting upon it, that surely her jets and tanks and soldiers would overpower the metal titans before they got too far onto their objectives.

How wrong she had been, watching Megatron sweep aside a jet with one swipe of his steel hand. He had stood against bullets like they were nothing; they didn't even annoy him. Airstrikes missed their targets, their systems jammed by some unknown signal or were hit with shots from the powerful cannon on Megatron's arm. When a single blow from his fist had collapsed a tank, that was when she knew that  _his_  strength, the strength of his  _military_ , was too great for her. At the moment her mind had wondered,  _What could a fist so strong do to_ _ **me**_ _?_

Her heart had sunk slowly, every so agonizingly slowly, into her stomach as that day had worn on and more and more robots came to the party. She had had no time, nor signal, to send out a press briefing; the Decepticons had hacked the satellites and controlled what was displayed on every working screen in the world. Eventually Wilson had the idea to launch her Air Force One to distract the Decepticons from her to give her time to flee the underground bunker of the White House. One of them must have taken the ploy because later, while she was escaping Washington, she saw her formerly impenetrable flying fortress lying like a broken toy on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

 _No, don't think about that now. There is nothing you can do to change the past._ Eleaniris shook her helm sadly at the words of her own mind, pondering,  _How scared might I have been that day if I had known that I would be a Slave Queen to such a powerful titan? That he wouldn't simply execute me and parade my dead body around on some kind of human-sized skewer, but instead make me into a sex slave?_

To her horror, voices started to filter through the rough metal of the "door." She was suddenly very aware of her nakedness, her skirts who-knows-where by now and her cloak in Skywarp's quarters; her only adornment was the triple-cuff bracelet on her arm, leftover from her performance in front of Megatron.

They were getting closer and closer despite the fact that she could not discern what was being said. They sounded excited though, and an excited Decepticon was rarely a good thing for any innocent, small, defenceless beings around them.

* * *

Based on the latest reports he had received from Soundwave, the selected warships were ready to deploy to the skies to search for Starscream and Eleaniris. The admirals had accepted their orders and were ready to plan amongst themselves the specifics of their search.

Megatron had laid down only one rule: despite whatever occurs, none of their mechs were to hurt his Eleaniris. He wanted her captured uninjured and he had assured - in a maneuver to display that he bore no weakness for her - that she would be dealt with when he received her.

He had also promised that the admiral who found his mate would receive a choice of their own human female for Cyberformation. When he had dismissed them and left the comm., he had glimpsed a handful of lustful smirks. He had hypothesized that easily manipulated, small femmes would make a great prize for any of his interface-starved admirals and the gleams in their optics had told him that he was correct; they  _craved_ the subjugation of a femme in the same way they  _craved_ the subjugation of worlds.

So far none had seen any sign of her, any sign of beautiful Eleaniris. Even Dreadwing, whom Megatron placed a fair amount of trust in to find her, had reluctantly reported failures of his teams. Hopefully these ships would find and detain Starscream and bring his mate back to him.

Glancing at the datapad on his desk, Megatron briefly considered looking over Shockwave's plan for the human younglings but decided that it could wait for now. He had thought of a few more questions for the captured rebels and then he would go on the hunt again before he would call Susan in for more gentleness assistance.

He refused to call it help.

With his spark pulsing in yearning for its missing compliment, he carefully subspaced Eleaniris' daggers and promptly left his office.

" _Soundwave,"_ he growled into his comm. link, completly ignoring all of the salutes and "All hail Megatron"s that his subordinates gave him as he walked through the Command, " _have the four human rebels sent to the medbay. Further questioning is required and so is Scalpel. Have him brought in from Eleanicon as well."_

Scalpel had been phased out to the growing city, though Megatron had intended to move him further away as soon as Knockout had properly adjusted and there was no need for him. Though as it was, Scalpel would remain nearby until he was completly replaced by the more competent Knockout. He would not need to worry about Eleaniris being prodded at unnecessarily or experimented on - Knockout was not imprudent enough to attempt such a thing and risk his wrath, while Scalpel might be if the Emperor turned his back for a nanoclick too long.

Soundwave hurried to comply with the requests of his liege, completing them with all of the ease of a communications' officer with vorns of experience. Finished with speaking to the rather unpleasant head of guards - even among the Decepticons the mech was disagreeable - he hesitantly commed his leader once more.

" _Lord Megatron, there are a few matters that should be brought to your attention."_ He monitored his console with a critical optic, watching the specifics of the warships as they launched and fed their data into his monitor in a live stream.

Megatron answered the comm. from Soundwave, listening. " _You may continue."_ His optics were not seeing the members of the lower ranks that jumped out of his way as he strode past. The warlord's sharp subconscious, however, noted that they kept their optics down and did not make contact with his own.

" _There is a possibility, my liege, that Eleaniris may be reached through Borealis."_ So far the launches were seamless and all was going according to plan.

" _Borealis? The gryphon? Could I connect to Eleaniris via the mind?"_ Megatron continued on his path, nearing the medbay now. " _Why wouldn't I just comm. her?"_

Soundwave paused, suddenly aware that his master might not have commed Eleaniris lately. The only reason he knew was because Grace had said that she couldn't reach her. Seeing no other option, he reluctantly explained the truth to his leader. " _Grace tried to speak with her yesterday, and she commed me in a panic that she received an error message that Eleaniris could not be found."_

Soundwave was not supposed to be in contact with his mate outside of professional circumstances. If this news had reached him and it hadn't been attached to Eleaniris, he  _might_  have been angry enough to separate them  _permanently_. However, his worry for Eleaniris overshadowed his fury at Soundwave's disobedience.  _Why was Grace trying to speak to Eleaniris? Likely to support her or try to coerce her into coming back._ For now he would just keep them under close watch.

She must be somewhere comm. links couldn't go into or out of, and if she was with Starscream and unable to reach him for help…

Eleaniris had to be found  _immediately_. Starscream would  _not_ hurt her in his cowardly attempt to dethrone him.

" _I forged a connection with the processors of Eleaniris and her gryphon, though that was when Borealis was very young. Now that she has already reached her last update, my liege, it is no longer possible to make another connection with another processor without endangering the existing link."_ Uneasily Sounwave continued and tried to soothe the expected anger of the Supreme Commander, " _If you speak to the gryphon directly, it is possible that she will hear your message and carry it to Eleaniris, though you will not receive a response from her."_

" _Your suggestion has been noted. Megatron out."_ He made a note to see the gryphon later. For now, he was too intent to leave behind his task. It might shed vital information that could bring Eleaniris back home to him; the sooner that that happened, the better.

Just before he could initiate the command sequence to close the comm., Soundwave added quickly " _Also, my liege, did the human rebels mention why Starscream wanted Eleaniris? What his reason is for keeping her alive?"_

Undoubtedly his temporary second-in-command had seen that video and developed an additional question. It was likely that he was trying to compensate for his errors that had caused Eleaniris to leave in the first place. Regardless, it was something the humans had hidden from him. He admitted as he stopped outside of the medbay, " _Curiously, they did not. Resume your work, and once the ships have finished launching join me in the medical bay."_

Soundwave complied and terminated their comm., thankful that his lord had not inflicted punishment on himself and Grace for their implied disobedience. He knew that Megatron was probably deeply distressed over Eleaniris, though outwardly he tried to appear collected and detached. He couldn't imagine his pain if Grace was in the same situation; kidnapped and scared of her captor but also reluctant to return to him.

Seeing that the indicated warships were successfully airborne, Soundwave left Command on the double; it was never wise to keep Lord Megatron waiting.

* * *

Megatron was pleased to see that the rebels had been collected and placed on a medical berth in the otherwise empty medbay. Pleasure also flared to see that they were nervous, shifting their weight so slightly so that it might escape his attention.

It didn't.

Knockout was speaking lowly - for once - with Scalpel at one of the counters, likely learning how to use the new device that would sort through human memory. Megatron intended to utilize it today, though it depended on how well they answered his questions and if he believed them. So far the two he had seen most recently had told him the truth, building up a miniscule amount of trust in their word.

Though it could be easily broken. Megatron was not one to trust easily, a habit from the gladiator arenas of Kaon that had only grown since he had made Starscream his second-in-command. However, these humans were of no threat to him; even armed they were not a danger to one such as he.

Maybe that was what had intimidated Eleaniris, made her feel helpless in his servos.  _Have I not convinced her that I will not harm her?_

"Humans," he growled, studying them to make them a little more anxious.

He did not expect one of them to greet back in a similar tone, "Megatron." His optics narrowed in response; was this human mocking him or trying to hide fear? Upon gazing into frightened organic eyes, he decided it was the latter. Even given one of his most intense stares, one that made mechs ten times its size cower, the human stood tall.

Courage for one so small made him think of Eleaniris - but not much didn't, since she was gone.

"What are you called, fleshling?" It was best time for introductions. He did not care about their designations (the only human name he had ever truly cared for was Eleanor) but this way he could establish how trustworthy they were. If they lied with this small of a detail, it would make his choice easier. The Emperor knew that when the probe had been tested it had left several humans in a vegetative state, even after only one use. These humans knew about Eleaniris and he was greedy when it came to intel about his mate, but they would be of no use if he had to resort to the device.

"Flavius Burns." Burns hated his presumptuous first name and only used it when incredibly necessary. A snort from Simmons strengthened this sentiment further. He'd let the man know later that he had crossed a line, yet he was also full of pity for the former agent. He had spent nearly a week in Decepticon captivity, as a prisoner no less, and was in desperate need of more food.  _If he was even fed at all._

"Indeed." One of Megatron's clawed digits indicated Lennox, who spoke next. The Emperor sensed Soundwave enter quietly, as always, and stand a fair distance away, ready to take whatever orders given to him.

"William Lennox." He answered dutifully, trying to keep his posture unafraid and stoic, though his mind persisted in its efforts to remind him of how Megatron had shaken him and rolled him like a pencil between his sharp fingers.

"Soundwave." The robot behind Megatron stiffened, standing at attention. Megatron continued, still gazing at the humans, "Verify their identities."

He strode forward to stand behind his much larger leader, reporting in a monotone voice, "Master Sergeant Flavius Alexander Burns, United States Marine Corps, retired. Honorably discharged. Registered voter, party independent."

_Just what information did they have access to? Was there a limit?_

Soundwave was going to continue, opening his mouth to go on when Megatron stopped him. "The other." He only cared to know so much information about Eleaniris.

He gave a curt nod and started over again, "Captain William Lennox, United States Army Rangers. Registered voter, party independent. Social Security Number 497-5-"

Lennox cut him off this time, increasingly uncomfortable. "T-that's quite enough."

Soundwave looked at Megatron inquisitively, and to his relief the silver titan made a dismissive gesture with a huge hand. Lennox was sternly reprimanded however, "Mind your place,  _human_. This will be your only warning."

Despite himself, the ranger dipped his head in acknowledgement.  _This is about keeping Ms. Sherman safe, nothing else._

"Whose idea was this…" Megatron paused to let them fester, pinning each of them with a steely, cold gaze, " _trade_?"

"I do not-" Burns started, not having expected the question. Regardless, Megatron interrupted him with a furious roar.

"To use Eleaniris,  _Queen_  of the Decepticons, as a  _ **bargaining chip**_?" The behemoth's fury had exploded out of his cold, clinical demeanor like a lava from a once-dormant volcano, his burning eyes flaring in his wrath.

The two men glanced at each other, Lennox asking with his eyes but not his mouth,  _Should we tell him?_

There were so many things at stake with this. Nation's cover could be blown and the organization gutted with the discovery and capture of Galloway, as the coward would likely give them away liked he had tried to do with President Sherman. Burns doubted that Galloway could be found with just his name, and giving a location to him was impossible; none of the council members knew where the others resided. And did he  _want_  to wish the same fate on Galloway? Or, possibly,  _death_?

Yet also was refusing him wise? Simmons had implied that there was something that could be used to force them to comply. Just as Eleaniris' tracking systems in her daggers had activated and called Megatron away, he had been squirming underneath Megatron's steel hand as a worm tried to enter his mouth, presumably to go to his brain. He had not wanted to talk about it, and in the dark cell Burns could hear the tears of terror in the man's voice. Did they want to be probed like that? What use would refusing him be?

 _Why does he even_ _ **care**_   _whose plan it was?_ The fact that he couldn't answer made Burns exceptionally uneasy.

"Why do you care?" He blurted, surprised with his own boldness.

Now it was Megatron's turn to be surprised.  _They're just insects. Does it hurt for them to know?_ But he didn't  _want_ them to know about his care for Eleaniris; it wasn't their concern.  _But the humiliation and anger…_

"Your former Commander-in-Chief has become my mate. As  _my_  mate," he cherished the clenched jaws of the humans beneath him, "she  _deserves_  respect."

He had been able to tell earlier that the humans were reluctant to initiate the bargain in the first place. Their facades had been all too easy to see through, revealing their loyalty to his Queen. Even for the proposed freedom of their race they had not wanted to sacrifice her because of their code of honor; they had been members of her now-disbanded military, after all. He envied their loyalty to their leader for he was not sure how many of his own mechs would do the same for  _him_.

Not that the Decepticons would be scattered so ever again. His forces were now over a billion strong, and only growing as more and more of Earth's technology was incorporated into his army.

Burns could tell that Megatron was hiding something, but was not sure what to think of the prick of revenge he felt in his heart as he decided to reveal to him, "The man's name is Theodore Galloway." They were all going to die at this point anyway; why should Galloway get away?

Megatron looked back at the silver Mercedes, who was silent for a few moments until he spoke, "Theodore Galloway, National Security Advisor to United States President Eleanor Sherman. Political part-" Megatron silenced him, knowing where this was going and shifted his red gaze to the humans on the medical berth.

"Is this true? This is the vile bug that decided to treat  _my_  Eleaniris like  _scrap metal_?" It was hard to look the giant in the eye, but Burns decided that he had to to prove their truthfulness. He allowed his fists to clench at his sides at the implied ownership of his President but also because he wanted to test a hypothesis.

Megatron growled deeply, the burning fury not directed at them but at this "Galloway" for trying to sacrifice his own mate to him.  _Cowardice transcends all races._ "What of his location?" Despite himself he could feel a sort of camaraderie forming with the humans on the table; they wanted to protect Eleaniris as much as he did, and even felt that this deal was dishonorable to her. For that he would allow them reprieve for the time being. Now, the paramount goal was finding Eleaniris, bringing her home, and successfully wooing her. The human's pitiful resistance was just a nuisance to him and could wait for now.

"That I do not know." Burns was slowly making amends with giving away Galloway; the man was a slime and this was only Karma catching up to his sorry corpse.  _He wanted to sacrifice Eleaniris to save his own skin._

_Now he won't make it out with it._

Megatron picked him up, Burns astonished with the newfound gentleness in those claws - more so than before, anyway - and held him before his face. The retired Marine tensed in the open palm, his hair stirring as the titan "exhaled."

"Is this the truth?" The conqueror's breath felt like a hot desert wind and his voice sounded like a brewing thunderstorm when he was this close. Though he was nervous, he was amazed to notice that his fear had mostly gone. It seemed that Megatron was not ready to hurt them yet, as bizarre as that sounded.  _Could he really care about Eleanor? Is that possible?_

"Yes. I swear by my honor." Megatron didn't react at all, his gaze and expression frozen, but lowered him back to the table and tilted his hand to allow him to tumble onto the metal surface. At least he wasn't dropped.

"We have confirmed that Eleaniris was kidnapped by Starscream. What I  _need_ to know is if anything else was said." Lord Megatron kept his towering stance as he went straight at the matter, watching their reactions with a critical optic.

Lennox stepped forward, he and Burns having come to terms with the twisted deal in their own twisted way. They both agreed that Eleaniris was safer with Megatron physically - even though he was  _far_ from respectful with some of his attentions - than she was with Starscream, and as present and past members of the United States Armed Forces their duty was to return her to safety. Since security had been rendered impossible by the circumstances, they had had to settle for the lesser evil. They were not trying to bring her back so that they could sacrifice her for the freedom of humanity; they were trying to rescue her from the greater - or lesser  _known_ \- evil. It meant that he had to cooperate with the being that had destroyed his world, but at least they would fulfill  _one_ of their duties. If they could not protect America from this threat, they would protect the country's leader.

"He wanted her to be his mate, or something." Lennox lowered his gaze and jumped backwards from the hand that came down to slam on the table, denting it with its strength.

" **WHAT**?" Megatron bellowed, on this occasion his anger obviously not aimed at them. His crimson, robotic eyes had taken on a faraway look again, his jaw clenched and his body shaking with fury. He was vaguely aware that Knockout and Scalpel had suddenly stopped speaking.

"It's true," he said half-heartedly, observing the reaction of the huge titan intently.  _Is he angry that his toy was taken from him?_ "I have no reason to lie. And we said that we believed she was safer with you."  _Talk him out of it. He looks ready to kill again._

Silence reigned for what felt like hours to the men but was, in all seriousness, likely only half a minute. Regardless, it was enough for them to feel very uncomfortable and uncertain about what Megatron was thinking. The tyrant's face was reflective, his optics narrowed not in threat but concentration.

"Your loyalty to Eleaniris is impeccable," the three men gaped at the sincere words of Lord Megatron, as did the other robots in the room. Compliments of  _any_  sort from the leader were rare enough, but for humans to be the recipients was as rare as a jewel in the pits of Kaon. Soundwave had only ever heard him genuinely blandish one human: Eleanor.

"For human fleshbags." Burns had to smirk despite himself as the backhand finally came with the compliment; he was wondering where that part was. Lennox was more daring and went so far as to chuckle.

"Soundwave, fetch me Eleaniris' bodyguard."  _Wilson is still alive? How has he not been killed?_ Megatron's facial plates were now sadistically grinning at Simmons, like a self-satisfied cat about to pounce on a hapless mouse. Burns' and Lennox's temporary relaxation at the discovery for Megatron's "respect" for them vanished like mist in the morning sun to be replaced with the raging fire of fear.

"I must continue with my interrogations." None of them, especially the cowering Simmons, liked the sound of that.

* * *

"I really miss Soundwave."

Grace panted -  _vented_ \- and leaned over the edge of the oversized stair to pull Susan up. They had been climbing for what seemed to be hours, using the I-push-you-up-and-you-pull-me-up method of ascending the stairs that were obviously meant for mechs of Soundwave's size and larger.

"Remind me why we didn't take the other way again?" Susan ignored Grace's comment about her lover; the older stylist still hated the invaders with an understandable and undying passion.

"The servants use that way." Grace had never liked to use "slave" and words were one of the few things she had real control over now, "It might have aroused suspicion." It was her turn to allow Susan to step up onto the next level, and she outstretched her two servos and laced them together to provide a foothold.

"Righto." Susan still used some odd words. Grace snorted at the sprinkle of humor while the older woman pulled her up. If Grace still had muscles, she was sure her arms would have been stiff as a board by now from sheer exhaustion.

"Flat ground. Hallelujah." Grace muttered, counting the doors until she reached Soundwave's.

"How do we-" Susan started to ask about their entry when the panel opened of its own accord.

"Soundwave installed a specialised system for me to go in without having to reach the keypad." Grace replied nonchalantly, stepping into the apartment and watching for any of Soundwave's symbiotes.

"So like the door at a grocery store?" Susan watched as well; the panther was in the habit of pouncing in greeting, as had been told to her.

"Yeah." Grace spotted a recharging Laserbeak and whistled up at him sweetly.

The condor's red optics onlined almost immediately and the bird swooped down to nuzzle at her cheek. "Greetings," he seemed to hiss, "beautiful Grace."

She giggled and replied, lightly boping Laserbeak on the tip of his beak, "Don't let Soundwave hear you say that. You know how he gets."

"Do you know where Borealis and Wheelie ar-" Grace started to ask, only for a series of shouts to come from the small berthroom.

Both of them trotted into the room, Laserbeak following casually. Rumble and Frenzy were in the middle of tormenting a squirming Wheelie, who was slightly smaller than the twins, by pinning him to the floor while the other shocked him.

"Hey!" Grace shouted at them, fully aware that they knew who she was. Susan stood behind her, having had plenty of unpleasant experiences with them and also having heard from Eleaniris some of her unfortunate occurrences.

Rumble turned from where he was shocking the helpless drone, standing and greeting her, "Is that our master's pretty little mate I see, Frenzy?"

Confident that they wouldn't lay a finger on her, she growled "Let him go. The Queen wouldn't be happy about this." Soundwave had told them that they were to consider her as a mother figure of sorts, and therefore were to listen to her and respect her. Grace had noticed that he laid down a hidden threat to the two destructive symbiotes, one that said there would be severe consequences if they did not.

They complied, grumbling as they left. "The Queen is  _never_  happy."

Grace bit her lip at the muttered phrase, knowing all too well its truth. Wheelie stood up, still shaking a little from the electrical charges, and smiled weakly at her in thanks.

"Where is Borealis? It's urgent." Wheelie, unable to speak, pointed up at the berth.

"Thank you," Grace smiled warmly, going to the ladder and starting to climb up. Susan followed suit, and the pair quickly ascended to see the sleeping gryphon curled in the middle of the metal surface.

"Borealis?" Grace called softly, walking to the large creature. She onlined purple optics and raised her helm off her front paws, peering at her curiously.

"Borealis, I need you to tell Eleaniris something for me." Susan came forth, tentatively kneeling in front of the still-lying creature. The gryphon appeared curious and interested, but did not make a sound. Taking it as a sign that she was listening, "Tell her to comm. me as soon as she possibly can. It's really, really important."

Susan couldn't repeat what she had seen on that datapad; it was too horrible, too awful to re-explain for the gryphon. She seemed to be such an innocent, pure-hearted creature and Susan didn't want to tarnish her. That, and Eleaniris should hear it from the person that saw the datapad in the first place.

To her amazement, the gryphon nodded, purple optics sparkling with an intelligent light, before setting her helm back down on her paws and going back to her nap. Susan stood and left Borealis, who seemed just as sad about Eleaniris as she was. Susan was confident that Eleaniris would be reached, and that the mythological creature could be trusted.

* * *

On their journey to the unknown coordinates most had been silent. Only a few had spoken in protest when Optimus Prime had stated his suspicions about the Decepticons. To be safe he had saved a recording of the broadcast message and kept it for later translation. It would be useful later.

As they reached the edge of a solar system, Ironhide informed him of a particular radio frequency. Tuning in to the indicated frequency, he heard the same language that had been spoken in the SOS message. He studied what he could from it, but it was full of static and inaudible sounds.

" _We must be close."_  Radio did not travel far fast.

* * *

"Are you  _sure_ that she is the right one?" One of the mechs in the circle around the image of Eleaniris asked the femme, who was standing outside of their ring. "This is of utmost importance."

"I'm aware of that." She was upset that they thought her so inept, after all this time with them, but refrained from showing it out of respect. "And I am positive. There cannot be another choice." Her voice was resolute, firm, and as sure as day.

The mech that had addressed her turned back to the centre of the circle, his optics going back to the image of Eleaniris. Taking this as her dismissal, the femme left to her own watching.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of the Autobots, more of these mysterious mechs that like to peep in on Eleaniris, and an unexpected arrangement between Lennox, Burns, and Megatron. Hmmm.
> 
> (Insert begging for reviews here.)


	56. The Plaything of Aliens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Dubious consent ahead.

Foulder and Nimbose had been listening to Starscream rant about the femme that the fellow Seeker had captured. Their leader was furious that she was not fit to carry his sparklings; that she possessed no wings and, on top of that, possessed no t-cog. They had also heard him ponder aloud if she should be only "a pleasurebot, a toy for the base to use." Hence, they wanted to use her before someone else got the chance to.

And killed her in the throes of their own passion.

" _It's been a long time since I had a handjob."_  Foulder exclaimed, more than a little excited. Femmes were rare before the war started, he had heard, and became even rarer once the war had decimated Cybertron.

" _You've never had one."_ Foulder frowned at Nimbose's gruff rebuke. He had been brought to life by the Allspark, only a military jet prior to the Decepticon takeover.

" _I guess you're right."_ His Cybertronian was low and then when high again, excited, " _But I have heard other mechs speak of them! That they are incredibly pleasurable, even though you're not really interfacing with the femme!"_

Nimbose rolled his optics, coming to Thundercracker's door where they had watched him take the femme. " _Routine Inspection,"_ he announced. Hearing no response from within, they rose their fists to start pounding the door down.

As the panel was made of makeshift scraps of human metal that had been scavenged from the dam and the surrounding structures, it was not long until the two Seekers found their way inside. Eleaniris was curled on the berth in a frightened ball, praying that Thundercracker would come back soon. She didn't have a problem with asking him for help, but Megatron was a different matter. Her pride was keeping her from doing so.

" _Get up, glitch."_ Foulder, slightly shorter than Nimbose, growled in Cybertronian.

Eleaniris pretended not to understand until he repeated himself in English. She did not know these robots, and was not hesitant to obey a spoken command of one so unpredictable. It hurt her Presidential pride, but it was necessary for survival.

"Let's see what we have here." Eleaniris stiffened and lowered her optics, though she was fighting in vain to appear unafraid. The taller one reached out towards her to brush over her belly, claws making microscratches on the once-flawless metal surface there. She remembered when one of the medics, Claw or Hook or something, had practically erased the scratches inflicted by those drones at the slave camp. Megatron had been furious with what they had called her and she had still been crying at its truth.

The medic's name was Hook. That was right.

" _Very fragable, wouldn't you say Nimbose,"_  the shorter jet purred. He was proving himself to be the leering, creepy type that would catcall young women in the street. And what the hell was  **fragable**?

" _Yes. Wonderful."_ "Nimbose" murmured, still fingering her. His red optics were not seeing her as a person; they were seeing her as an object of pleasure. It was infuriating and so very  _degrading_.

" _Such a small little pleasurebot. Hopefully she can make up for her size with talented servos and glossa."_ The other, unnamed one smirked at her, suggestively licking his chops.

"What?" She feigned ignorance, remembering that she was not supposed to understand. Nimbose heard her murmured intonation and purred deeply.

She realised, with a start, that that purr was nothing like the majority of the ones Megatron had given her. His had been ones of simple pleasure, but this was one of sensuality and eagerness.

"We were admiring your beauty,  _Empress_."  _That's a lie as conspicuous as a beacon in the darkest of nights._

"Oh." They smirked at her, optics looking over her body in a way that made her want to squirm.  _At least Megatron would look at my face_ she thought, only to dismiss it faster than the speed of light.

Nimbose picked her up roughly, making her wish for Skywarp's touch, and held her before his face. His order was so blunt, so quick and unexpected that it would have made her blink.

"Pleasure me."

His face was blank, hard as the steel that composed it, and his optics told her that he expected to be obeyed to the letter. Underlying that was a smooth, buried smugness that was universal across all of these robots; that the small, flesh creatures they enslaved had one purpose and one purpose only: to serve unconditionally the will of their masters. Nimbose was self-assured that she would do as he commanded, for she was smaller than him and it would take all the effort of crushing a grape to kill her.

In short, he  _owned_ her.  _They're all the same, these bastards. Think that they can own someone because they're smaller, weaker, defenceless._

 _But can't they,_ the dark voice of cold, hard truth spoke to her.  _It's Social Darwinism at its finest._

Her only choice was to obey. It didn't matter if she was with Megatron or Starscream or Nimbose or anyone else. That was her  _sole_ option.  _Except with Thundercracker._

Eleaniris wanted so badly to use her explosive arrows on the bastard, nail him through the processor before he knew what had hit him, but her subconscious was telling her to wait.

Telling her that she wasn't going to make it. That the consequences would be greater than the gains.

Assuming that she aimed correctly and did, somehow, hit something vital and kill him the other robot would still be there. The other one she might not be so lucky with, and he could just step on her where she fell. Say that she got that one too, there was a whole base she needed to get out of and she only had so many arrows and so much luck. Even if she did get out using more luck that conceivable, what would happen then? They were in the middle of a desert and she had limits on her Energon.

Yes, she had to obey. As much as it hurt her to be treated like an object, she was trapped.

That posed another issue. Did she pretend to keep her carefully guarded secret, the one that not even Wilson knew? Did she act like she knew what she was doing?

She had to. Better than giving them any hints about her past.

So she lunged for his lips, kissing and licking them like a cheap slut. His purrs told her that she was doing something right, and fighting back her sobs she continued caressing the huge lip components with her own. Faintly she remembered doing the same to Megatron to save James; how futile that had been. James was probably dead, since Megatron never seemed to keep his word.

She tried to slide her glossa into his mouth and earned a chuckle from Nimbose. He pulled away and murmured, "Not so fast" and went back in, this time he being the one to invade her mouth with the tip of his glossa.

The flavour was  _disgusting_. It was nothing like when Megatron had kissed her against her will; his taste had been different, as sick as it was to admit. His was just  _right_ , unlike the terrible garbage taste of this mech's mouth. The Empress felt as though she was making out with Jabba the Hutt.

Yuck.

She had to fight not to gag on the huge, slick appendage as it dominated her tiny glossa and licked it sloppily. When he broke the "kiss," strings of slime still connected their lips and his optics flared brightly. "Good girl," he purred pervertedly, making her tense her cables with apprehension.

"What is your name?" She purred back, trying to lounge in the palm as sexily as she knew how and hide her secret. If that got out, she didn't want to think about what might happen to her.

"Nimbose,  _Candy_." She smiled falsely, sensuously leaning forward to show off her chassis and look at his seemingly-jealous companion.

"What about him?" Eleaniris jerked her chin to indicate the robot over his shoulder, and Nimbose turned his helm to peer at Foulder.

"He's no one." Nimbose purred, darting forward to kiss at the side of her face.

"Foulder," the other greeted, glaring at his partner pointedly. "But to you,  _Treat_ , it is  _Master_."

Greeeaaaatttt. More suggestive nicknames to add to her depressingly large collection. And like hell she was going to call  _anyone_ Master  _ever again_.

"Do I get a kiss, Treat?" Foulder persisted, liking how her new name tasted on his glossa. He wondered if that taste would compare to or compliment hers; she looked so delicious, sitting in Nimbose's palm like a sweet Energon treat.

She gasped when Nimbose crushed her to his chassis, which vibrated when he yelled, "She's mine! So back off!" He sounded like a petulant, stubborn young child, which didn't help her growing image of herself as a toy.

" _Yours_?" A grinding of metal that sounded like grating of denta, "That wasn't the deal!"  _So superior you are,_ she thought dryly. She furrowed her brows at the sudden resurgence of her sense of humour; it had been quite dormant since the Invasion.

"There wasn't a deal. You can try her out when she's done with me!" Nimbose snarled in finality. "I outrank you. So wait."

He pulled her away, giving her room to "breathe" and grinned at her with sharp denta. "Let's see what you can  _really_ do." His other servo reached downwards towards his groin, making something click back. He was lowering her, lowering her more, and she was shuttering her optics in vain to make believe that nothing was happening.

Despite herself, she knew what was coming next. She had heard the girls in her college dorm talking about what she assumed was going to be forced to do now, though the name escaped her. Their experience had been different; at least their partners were of the right proportional size.  _This_ size difference belonged in some weird fetish porno, not in real life.

Right. It was called a handjob.

 _You sure Megatron wasn't better?_ The dark, submissive side of her growled.  _All he did was lick and kiss you._

* * *

" _So we were outside, washing off, when she suddenly mentions to me this monster that keeps humans from living in the desert."_ Skywarp was proud of the size of his amassed audience, making his voice louder and more expressive while his gestures grew more animated. He felt very important to be the one bringing such news to his comrades.

" _What was it, Warp?"_ One of the Seekers asked, curious.

" _Little Eleaniris said that it is the size of a human dwelling, and is a nocturnal creature that loves the taste of blood."_ The rebel Seekers laughed and Skywarp chuckled too; Humans were afraid of the strangest things and got scared very easily.

" _But that's not all. She says that they like Energon now too."_ The others laughed again, but Skywarp frowned this time. Were they not taking him and his warning seriously?"

" _Seriously! They're very sneaky and you don't see them coming until they are upon you. She said that they drain you in seconds of your Energon!"_ The laughter grew more boisterous than before, and Skywarp felt himself getting angrier than he was before.

" _She got you good, 'Warp!"_ The same Seeker from before pointed at him and mocked, " _What did she call these beasts?"_

" _Chupacabras!"_ Now the mechs were practically  _rolling_ with their guffaws and snickers.

" _Everyone knows that those aren't real, Skywarp!"_ Another jet pointed out and Skywarp snapped his helm around to give him a death glare. " _Not everything on the human's internet is true!"_

" _Wait till she tells you about Bigfoot, 'Warp! I want to hear about that one!"_

Tired of being ridiculed for his foolishness, Skywap growled and stalked out. Eleaniris was going to pay for what she said to him, for making him look like an idiot in front of his peers.

He was a  _Seeker_ , a member of one of the Decepticons' most elite units. Eleaniris, a femme smaller than his servo, had just degraded his prestige and the respect of his peers. He had earned that during the Decepticon takeover of Earth with his single-handed demolition of one of the humans' largest cities. During that time the Decepticons had competed with each other with how much they could destroy and how much fear they could wreak, and Starscream had done so foolishly with Megatron.

He still remembered that altercation, that he had been caught between defending Starscream and snickering at his stubborn, prideful inanities.

" _Look at them_ run _! Our very presence fills them with_ terror _!" Starscream had started, grinning as he aimed his cannon. They had just landed in New York - he remembered thinking_ what a dumb name for a city -  _and were ready to start the destruction that had been planned for so_ _ **long**_ _._

" _You wanna see terror, wait till_ Megatron  _gets here." He had punched one of his servos with the other in anticipation of the destruction, grinning as he aggravated Starscream by aiming at one of his weak points - comparisons to Megatron._

_He had waited for so long to start havoc on Earth, to taste the smell of battle again and to feel the fire in his systems as he set about conquering. Thundercracker merely stood next to him, emotionless as he looked on at the terrified humans._

" _Fear!" Starscream hit some random fleeing humans with his cannon. "Terror!" Another blast killed more of them, felled them in droves. Hot, red fluid from their bodies painted the strange black street in a grotesque mural of color. Cars that hadn't been cyberformed by the Allspark burst into flames as they were trampled by the newly-born Decepticons, and if there were any occupants bits of flesh and blood ran down the crumpled metal._

" _I am the master of these things, not-" He had smirked when Starscream finally turned, only to see the great hulking mass of the Decepticon leader standing there. The Supreme Commander looked serious, focused on the battle raging around them._

" _-Megatron!"_

 _Starscream tried to walk back the meaning of his words by showing submission to the Emperor of Destruction, his default method of survival, "A_ pleasure _. It's not often we see you on the front lines so…_ early.  _As you can see_ ,"  _he gestured to the burning buildings and ashes flying about the street that had once been humans, "our plan is working_ perfectly.  _The destruction of this-"_

" _Destruction?" Megatron sounded amused. He had only watched with a smirk, wondering where Megatron was going to take this. "As_ always _, Starscream, you_ talk  _big," Megatron raised his powerful fusion cannon, aiming for one of the random tall buildings a little ways down the street. A single, powerful blast of energy hit the base with a great shatter, making the once-proud tower of glass and steel fall and smash one of the smaller ones with its weight. He could have sworn that he saw humans squished by some of the debris, but the sight of red pavement was quickly obscured by smoke from the flames that had erupted._

" _\- when everything about you is_ small _."_

Despite his anger, Skywarp still chuckled at the memory of how flabbergasted and annoyed Starscream had been with Megatron. It was no wonder that Eleaniris had run away from his titanic former master; he was so very powerful, so incredibly  _strong_ , that he had probably hurt her on more than one occasion. He refocused himself, coming around the last turn to Thundercracker's quarters and reminding himself of why he was angry.

All of the honors he had received from his peers for what he had done in Beijing, all of that prestige, Eleaniris had taken away when she  _lied_ to him.

The door was open, which he might have thought strange if he wasn't so angry, and stomped into the opening ready to shout at Eleaniris for what she had done. After he had scared her enough to be punishing, he would probably pick her up and croon to her, taking her back to his quarters so he could cuddle with her and maybe put her in his cockpit.

She was indisputably  _cute,_ being the little thing she was. It was hard to stay angry with her when all he wanted to do was pet her and croon to her, feed her little Energon treats….

Speak to the unborn sparklings that he would put in that belly.

Eleaniris braced herself, trying not to start sobbing at what she was going to be forced to do for her survival, when the movement stopped and an outraged, possessive voice shouted from the doorway, " _What_ are you doing to Squeaker?"

Eleaniris knew who  _that_ was. She didn't know what to think of him since he had decided not to rape her, but beggars couldn't be choosers. It was him or the awaiting handjob.

"Skywarp!" She cried back, wriggling in the mech's suddenly-formed fist. Nimbose turned his body, granting her a view of the purple Seeker. "Skywarp!"

Skywarp looked from his distraught mate to the mech holding her, seeing that the other's spike was out. He might have been a fool, but it didn't take a genius to know what Nimbose had been planning for sweet little Squeaker. "As your commanding officer," He pulled himself up taller, flaring his wings to appear larger and express his anger, "I order you to give her to me."

Foulder sat back, amused that the words Nimbose had used on him had come back to bite him in the aft. Frustrated, Nimbose dumped her into Skywarp's outstretched palm and re-covered his spike. Skywarp winced, remembering how much that hurt, but kept his angry expression. Squeaker belonged to  _his_ trine and could only be touched in that way by Starscream, Thundercracker, and himself.

Eleaniris latched onto his fingers, her grip so tight the Skywarp was not sure that he would be able to pry her off without hurting her. He gave her a reassuring glance but hardened his countenance when his gaze shifted back to the two other Seekers, "Out.  _ **Now**_."

Foulder snickered at Nimbose as he followed orders and left, the latter dragging his pedes and giving the purple-hued Seeker dirty looks.

When the two were gone, Skywarp looked back at Eleaniris. He raised her to his faceplates, narrowing his optics.

" **Chupacabras** , huh?" Eleaniris sensed the change in his tone, how the temperature had dropped quicker than the desert's did upon nightfall. She half-smiled weakly, considering her options.

"It was a joke," she chose to settle for, "I didn't think that you would take it seriously."

" _ **Really**_?" Skywarp wasn't amused. Something bad had happened, and the anger in those optics made her shrink against his palm. Out of all the times to speak to her, Borealis entered her mind smoothly and warned, ' _Mistress, Susan needs to comm. you.'_

' _Not now, Borealis.'_ She thought back rudely, stressed at the look on Skywarp's face. Maybe curling into a ball would help like it did last time. She did just that, throwing in a few shudders for good measure, and replied to Borealis in a more polite manner; it wouldn't do to affront the gryphon. ' _I'm sorry, but I can't do it now.'_

' _As soon as you can, then. She says that it is urgent, mistress.'_ Borealis sounded stressed, worried, and then left her mind.

Skywarp poked at her, making her hiss at the dull pain. It was akin to being prodded too hard with a stick - more like a log, for the size of Skywarp's digits. "Come on, Squeaker." His voice was soft now and meekly she peeked between her fingers at his face, seeing that he was concerned. "I already told you that I won't hit you."

"But you'll do something worse to me." Eleaniris pretended to sob, curling into herself tighter. "Like rape me."

Remembering that distrustful and stressed mates never had good, strong offspring, Skywarp tried to reassure, "I won't mate with you until you are ready for me, Squeaker."

He chuckled, trying to cheer her up, "It's not like I'll fit anyway."

 _Does he not know about the cuff that makes Megatron smaller?_ She held her position for a few moments, making it look like she was making a choice, and then unfurled to sit up straight in his palm.

"There, there." Skywarp crooned, and she rewarded him with a shy smile. She was still playing him, but she had to remember to be more careful from now onwards. "I won't be like Starscream."

He was leaving Thundercracker's room, probably going to his own, and she came up with a good pun. She needed to act like she trusted him, like she liked him for him to protect her. "More like Star _screech_." It had appeared so far that these aliens had a sense of humor similar to that of humans.

Skywarp laughed so hard that it shook her, and she regained a hold on one of his fingers to steady herself. "That's a  **good** one, Squeaker!"

Though it was not her intention, Eleaniris smiled at the chuckling Seeker. Maybe she had just made herself safer; she couldn't depend on Thundercracker to save her all the time. She raised one of her fists and straightened her arm grinning at him brightly.

Skywarp noticed this and raised an optic ridge, "What are you doing, Squeaker?"

"It's called a fist bump. We -  _humans_ do it when they-" She was explaining when he suddenly interrupted her to read off of the internet.

" _A_ _ **fist bump**_ _is a gesture similar in meaning to a handshake or high five. A fist bump can also be a symbol of giving respect or approval. It can be followed by various other hand and body gestures and may be part of a dap greeting. It is commonly used in baseball and hockey as a form of celebration with teammates, and with opposition players at the end of a game. In cricket it is a common celebratory gesture between batting partners."_ He still looked puzzled.

"You didn't need to read that…  _Wikipedia_ article or whatever out loud. And I was explaining it to you anyway." Eleaniris cocked her helm to the side, giving him her best unimpressed look. "So just give me a  _ **gentle**_  fist bump because I made a good pun."

Skywarp brought up his other servo and stopped walking in the middle of the hallway to boost his concentration, making it into a fist and bringing it to carefully touch her small servo. Surprisingly it didn't jolt her arm as much as she thought it would and was quite gentle.

"See?" Eleaniris tried to bury the memory of what she had nearly been forced to do, smiling at Skywarp as he resumed his gait.

"Yes, I can see very well." He was joking back with her now, making her forget what she had seen him do in Beijing. In that moment he seemed like an actual person, a real being with thoughts and feelings just like any of the other human friends she had had.

"Good one," she formed another fist and he bumped it carefully with his own, " _Sly_ warp." He grinned at her, chuckling and his denta gleaming harmlessly as he entered his own room.

Under her carefully fabricated, though partially real, facade Eleaniris worried about what the future held for her. Would Skywarp be able to save her all the time? Would Thundercracker? What about Starscream? What was he planning?

Would any of this break her, send her pleading for Megatron's touch?

She wasn't so sure of the answer anymore, not after what had nearly happened with Skywarp and Starscream and then Foulder and Nimbose. Eleaniris would have to wait it out and see for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp's memory is derived from IDW's All Hail Megatron and everything that is said is a direct quote. *For those of you who have read the comic, you know that Thundercracker reveals himself in the end as almost guilty for what happened on Earth. I just wanted to say here - since I am too lazy to post on Reddit or something - that I noticed that through the whole series, not just in his altercation with Skywarp in Beijing, one can see how sad he looks about the destruction. Even in the first issue, when Starscream starts talking about how the humans run from them, you can see Thundercracker reaching out to them with a servo, like he is concerned and half-heartedly trying to stop Starscream. I just want you guys to appreciate that. Sorry.
> 
> Reviews. Just, reviews. Please.


	57. The Scapegoat Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Wilson, when compared to Simmons, seemed far better off. Whereas the former Sector Seven agent's clothing seemed to sag off his frame with the telltale signs of starvation, Wilson's body filled his clothes. He looked clean, even, and his clothes were fresh.

Burns even noticed that he wore not the black tactical gear that they had when they left Nation's base for the palace; it had been replaced with black slacks and a button-up shirt, his feet bare and making a slight slap when they hit the bare metal of a different table.

Megatron, without warning, selected Burns and Lennox carefully from their spot and dumped them by Wilson so that they were effectively separated from Simmons. Absently they noted that most of the roughness from their last audience with the invader had vanished, replaced with an odd begrudging gentleness.

"What happened?" Wilson's eyes were full of fear, though Burns could see that the man was trying to hide it like the good Marine he was.

"Galloway decided that the President was better as a  _sacrifice_." Lennox spat the word with derision and barely managed to keep his voice low. "He thought we could use  _her_  to  _buy_  humanity's freedom."

Wilson's jaw tightened; this was not the point of the rebellion. There  _had_  to be other ways to end their slavery to these metal titans other than sacrificing the last world leader alive, one of their own and a woman who had been through so  _much_ , to the fiend that had taken so much from her. And that Galloway, one of her own  _administration_ , had been the one to initiate the deal…

He was lost for words.

Not that he had a chance to reply anyway, because Megatron then unleashed his fury on Simmons. The poor man was once again pinned underneath huge, cold talons and splayed underneath the giant's palm. Simmons closed his eyes, expecting a repeat of what had happened before.

The three other men were doomed to watch.

"Tell me,  _rebel_ , what exactly happened in  _my_ Communications Room." Megatron's low, calm, stern voice was in direct contradiction of his tight, angry body language. He was leaning over the human in an attempt to make it feel small, make it break and conform to his iron resolve.

The Emperor of Destruction was confident in this inevitability; had he not told Eleaniris that lesser beings were the playthings of his will?  _I should privately make clear that despite my great power, both physical and political, I will not harm her._

_Perhaps that will rectify her fear and I can set about conquering that lithe little body._

Simmons heard the robot above him grunt in satisfaction and assumed that it was at his trembling, terrified body. Never did it cross his mind that it was a lustful thought of Ms. Sherman. If it had, he might have curled his lip and swore in disgust. A claw tapped his side, reminding him.

Oh. The monster had asked a question. Right. About the Autobots.

His mind was petrified, cursed to think in short, choppy sentences as the beast breathed ragged breaths and some of the tiny gears in the hand holding him clicked as the giant made the most insignificant of moves.

It was still hard for him to wrap his head around NBE-1's sheer, impressive size. No doubt he could just rip him apart with the ease of a vulture tearing up a carcass.  _Nice thought there. Real encouraging._

Simmons didn't answer, his mouth not moving and his tongue refusing to make any sound other than a whimper. They were all doomed, as a species, if he did regain speech. If he spilled the beans about the message to the Autobots, that implied that they knew who to send it to to begin with; that meant that they had had someone inside the palace tell them and the only conceivable person was the President.

The agent didn't want to know what might happen to that sweet woman if Megatron knew that she had "betrayed" him. She had already been dragged by her hair through so much mud.

So he kept his mouth clenched shut and bit his tongue, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. His heart beat fast with the knowledge that he would be not be saved this time; he was not as lucky as the woman called Eleanor. He just wished he could have said goodbye to his mother and Dutch, both of whom were waiting in Nation's base for him.

Megatron didn't like this. A deep, rumbling growl came from the throat above him and Simmons felt something suspiciously close to slobber hit his cheek in a few spots. Hot breath enveloped him and he stiffened his body further with the strain of being so close to the metal, razor-like teeth that he could not presently see but knew were there.

" **No answer**?" All else was silent in the room, making the monster's voice seem even louder.

And he wasn't even yelling yet.

Simmons didn't respond but grimaced at the slime sliding down in cheek from where it had fallen. When Eleanor had been  _covered_ in that stuff how had she felt? Probably as sick as he did.

"My liege, if I may," Knockout started, tapping the claws on his servos together as he held them level with his chest. Irritated that he had been interrupted when he had just gotten started, Megatron turned to glare at the medic.

"Speak." It was not an invitation.

The medic shifted, aware of the pressing gaze of Lord Megatron but not daring to lower his optics. It was too late to do that now; his master might take it as a sign of disrespect. "While I was in space, I heard a message that contained certain, ah,  _coordinates_."

"Go on."

Knockout did just that, the full brunt of the warlord's potentially-fatal attention on him. Never had he seen those hard, fiery optics go soft for any reason; they would only brighten with fury or bloodlust. "I could not hear all of the transmission, my lord but-"

"Are you defective in the processor?" Megatron's claws left the human and the warmonger turned to stalk towards the medic like one of Cybertron's enormous cyberbeasts hunting its prey. The Aston Martin backed up into the counter, cowering from his lord, who bent over him and seemed poised to pounce.

"I-I was in the asteroid field between the fourth and fifth planets master! Something must have happened with the-"

"Silence." Lord Megatron loomed above him, standing straight from his slightly-hunched position and going back to the table. Poor Simmons had only just started to recover when he was scooped up and clenched in a fist.

" **You**.  **Tell me**." The agent struggled in vain, the powerful hand around him only tightening so that it was getting harder to breathe and his ribcage bent in response to the vice-like grip. Any more pressure and he might break a rib. He didn't want to die of internal bleeding.

"P-please." He panted and winced as the giant  _laughed_  at his pathetic beg for mercy. The hand holding him shook, stealing more air from his already tight chest and making his vision spin and blur.

" **Please** _ **what**_ **?** " hummed the massive metal man holding him. It was so condescendingly mocking that Wilson decided that he had to stop this, that he couldn't stomach standing by any longer. It would be dangerous, but what was more danger added to the pile they already had? Besides, Megatron seemed to give him a little sway for keeping "Eleaniris" safe from himself for a year. He had eaten better in the last week or so than he had even with Nation, had been given a thin bed and blanket in his cell, and even was allowed to clean up and get a new pair of clothes; it appeared to him that loyalty to the "Queen" was not unrewarded.

"Did you treat  _Eleanor_ like this?" Wilson shouted, going all in. Burns and Lennox snapped their heads to gape at him, their eyes asking  _What did you just do?_

Megatron's smug smirk vanished when he shifted his gaze down to the human on the table, shocked to find that he was daring to stare right back. "Her name," he growled, not letting Simmons go and ignoring completly the man's piteous struggle in his servo, "is  _Eleaniris_."

"That is what  _ **you**_ call her. To  _ **us**_ ," Wilson gestured to himself, the two men flanking him, and Simmons, "she is called  _ **Eleanor**_." He did not note the way Lennox started to slowly twist his golden band in nervous anxiety.

Megatron raised his chin and narrowed his red, inhuman eyes threateningly. "She  _ **chose**_ to rename  _herself_.  **Respect** her chosen designation,  _human_." His lip had curled and Simmons watched the two argue with wide eyes, afraid of what might happen to him if Megatron's anger spiked. He stamped out thoughts of his guts going everywhere, showering his teammates below and coating the metal of the devil holding him in his fist.

Wilson hadn't been expecting that reply. He had been ready to cover his ears at a loud roar of rage befitting the animal, the  _beast_ , before him; but never in a million years would he have thought that true. It seemed impossible to conceive that he had given Eleanor a real choice.

"Really?" Burns asked, astonishment creeping into his tone.

"Yes." Megatron, not liking being interrogated by  _anyone_  - much less  _insects_  - started to go back to the human he was holding when the Eleaniris' bodyguard dared to yell again.

"That's not the point. What did you  _do_ to her, you piece of-" Burns and Lennox fought to restrain him in an attempt to survive. There was no guarantee of what Megatron's reaction would be to this.

"I warn you to watch your fleshling glossa, human." Soundwave broke his silence, speaking for Lord Megatron, who seemed incapable of words at the moment. He did not know whether to strike this human down for his insolence or spare him for his loyalty to Eleaniris; the anger that manifested on the human's face was telling him, whispering to his processor, that he was protective of her though it was not in the way he was. It was not the defensiveness of a mate, but more of a Creator.

A quick reference showed him that he had protected his Queen since her late twenties, had thwarted assailants and saved her in the time since. It seemed that all he needed to do was show that he was not a threat to Eleaniris and her guard would back down.

Wilson's body felt incredibly tense, and it took all his willpower to be silent. His comrades had finally knocked some sense into him;  _what_ had he just done?

Megatron practically tossed the abused Simmons on the metal in front of them, and Burns broke away from Wilson's left to help the man up. "She has known no want since I have crowned her, fleshbag. I have given her  _everything_  she needs and desires."

"Your President is now  _my_ **mate**.  **Period**."

The silver face hovered before them like a ghostly apparition, the determined red eyes seeming to belong to a demon. " **She**." His voice was a loud boom when he was this close, and Wilson could hear and feel more than ever how richly deep the robot's voice was. He didn't really know if the invaders had sexes but if they did and he had to guess which Megatron was, he would have to say male.

Definitely Alpha Male, hands down.

Two massive hands landed on the table on either side of them, cutting off escape in that direction with a loud  _clang_ that shook the metal underneath their feet, though it had been with hardly any of his potential force. " **Is**."

The room was quiet with the exception of the deep, possessive voice flooding their arteries with adrenaline, " _ **Mine**_."

That word said it all to Wilson. That single syllable carried such meaning, told him that Eleaniris -  _if_  she had actually chosen that name - might be irrecoverable at this point. If such a large, mighty being laid claim to her as a  _mate_ of all things, who were they to try to pry her from his steel talons? Mere  _humans_ could not tear her away from her awful fate. He let his anger vanish, accepting that nothing could be done except to wait for the Autobots to come. Humanity was losing, had already lost. Maybe he had but one option: to protect her. Give her a shoulder to cry on. Make her life as comfortable as he could, because it seemed like they were not going anywhere soon while they were pinned under Megatron's thumb.

But to do this, he had to know one thing.

In a soft, wondering tone Wilson inquired, "Why her? Why not choose a mate amongst your own kind? Why pick a  _human,_ a  _leader_ , to be yours?" Megatron was still for a moment and the four men could practically hear the gears turning in that colossal head. Burns nodded at Lennox, nonverbally communicating that Wilson's anger was subdued. They released his arms and stepped back, giving the Secret Service agent space.

_He is to be her bodyguard after all and the others, if I choose to let them live, will be as well. It does not hurt for them to know, and it might serve to quell their fight. Eleaniris wouldn't want her guards, especially this Ben, to be terminated by my servo for their insubordination. Knockout should know this information anyway._

_I can threaten his paint job to keep secrecy. Word of this will not reach the main ranks._

"She was not destined to be a human." Megatron's tone was uncharacteristically soft, the voice of a man reminiscing about days long gone by. "She is my sparkmate, though she was reincarnated accidentally into a human body."

Knockout listened intently, keeping careful notes in his processor.  _That explains why she was picked for such a_ _ **special**_   _position._

Wilson tried to hide his own realization that this robot was indeed crooked in the head. That only made him all the more dangerous; the insane were hard people to predict as they often did not have patterns in their behaviour. This senility might explain why he had been so careful with her in the first place; why he had kept her around instead of executing her in his signature grotesque fashion.

"What  _is_ a sparkmate?" Lennox asked gently, eyeing wordless Wilson. It was best that they gathered as much information as they could, even if they may never get out alive.

Megatron's answer was not immediate and his red eyes swiveled to fixate on Lennox. "I have found that soulmate is the correct human term." The tone was still gentle and deep, so rich in its timbre that the man could feel it in his chest.

No wonder he had saved Eleaniris from so many things. There was no question that the colossus was telling the truth, that Eleaniris had been crowned Queen because he desired her in this way.  _She is not to be a sex slave after all,_ Wilson was forced to conclude,  _though this may not be love._

"You mentioned reincarnation. Was she dead before?" Burns dared to ask, his face betraying his concern. Megatron took it to be about Eleaniris but the retired Marine was actually worried about the robot's sanity. Also, he had assumed that an advanced race of brutal aliens such as they would have no belief system. Apparently they did.

Perhaps it was a distant cousin of Satanism.

"She died on the battlefield, promising that she would return to me." Sadness flickered through only to be hidden again with indifference.  _He is not one to show these things, but he still feels them._

Simmons cocked his head, making sure to word his question carefully. "If Eleaniris is so special, what happened to make her run away?"

The sentence was not phrased well enough, and the subliminal message shown through the thin camouflage like the sun itself. What he was really asking was  _What did you do to her?_ , as Megatron perceived it anyway. Simmons gulped, wishing he had kept his mouth shut and his tongue in a knot.

The silver robot stepped back, his optics hardening as the fragile spell broke. Wilson, in a mad attempt to cover up for Simmons and prevent the abused man from being crushed, offered "We only wish to know what happened. We protected her too."

The claws that picked him up held him in a loose fist - Megatron didn't want the man to get ideas about him being soft - and did not tear his clothing, merely supporting him instead of confining him. The Emperor's metal face did not twist into a sadistic, cruel smirk and his eyes did not flare with bright bloodlust. He looked truthful, reflective, and even  _regretful_ when he confessed.

"I scared her. I did something that made her want to leave me." Wilson had watched this very being slaughter without remorse, yet he was  _sad_ to have scared  _one_ human away? How was this  _possible_? How could he feel sorry for something like that when he ordered enslavement of children and killed creatures that couldn't fight back?

How could he deign to  _love_ Eleanor? In the woods on the way back to Nation, after unsuccessfully trying to convince her to escape, Wilson had come to the conclusion himself. It was still different, though, when the truth of his presumption was stinging him in the face with sad red optics.

Eleaniris was either very fortunate or very unlucky. Wilson was leaning towards the latter; the attentions of his monster were a curse,  _not_  a blessing.

"What do you  _think_ you did?" Either way this beast was going to end up getting her back; Wilson wanted to be around to support her and to do that he needed to a) not die by squeeze and b) earn the trust of the massive monster holding him so that he had access to Eleaniris.

"Many things. I do not know which." Megatron wasn't meeting his gaze but was staring down and to the side.  _Maybe one of those things might be squeezing her in a fist, you ignoramus._ The fingers around him had slacked enough that Wilson actually took ahold of one of them, afraid that he might be inadvertently dropped.

Again the fragile spell shattered like an expensive wineglass, disappearing into oblivion as it collapsed. The fiery points snapped back to him, scrutinizing him. Wilson was so close that he could see little lenses spinning as they focused on him, similar to those of a camera. "But  _you_  are needed so that I can recognize which."

Wilson was handed off to Soundwave and Megatron turned back to the humans on the medical berth before him. "Take him to inspect my quarters for anything that might have made her nervous and have some of the slaves attend to his needs." The Emperor had noted that she decided to leave at some point while she was in his quarters; something he had overlooked might have spooked her.

Meanwhile, in the back of his mind Wilson noted that he wasn't called an "it." That was something, at least.

Megatron grinned at Simmons, making the ill-fated man shudder and gulp at the claws casting menacing shadows over his defenceless body. "I have been diverted and must go back to this human.  **It** has not yet answered my question."

Wilson withdrew his respect.

The two men on the table, who were being spared from Megatron's wrath, flinched at the degrading terminology. However Seymour Simmons didn't seem to have the strength to do so, his body frozen and rigid like a deer in the headlights. While the robot holding him was leaving the room, Wilson exchanged an urgent glance with Burns and Lennox.  _Do something!_ was the message they received before the door cycled shut and the man was gone.

But  _what_? What could keep  **him**  from doing as he wished? Maybe Eleaniris if she was here she could have spoken out, but Burns and Lennox had to act quickly in her absence. They could see the red one carrying over a small, spidery creature that in turn carted some sort of metallic slug. Megatron's ominous chuckle made Simmons' skin crawl when he was pinned yet again, the massive android gloating "But since you refuse to answer me, I am forced to utilise the Extractor."

Simmons' eyes moved to keep track of the insidious Doctor, widening when the worm was put on his chest again. "Open vide!" the small robot commanded, cackling and forcing his jaw open as far as it would go. The probe extended long tendrils, letting them twirl straight up in the air from its head and blue light started to pulse through them.

Just as it was about to slither into his mouth, Lennox interrupted hastily. "Use it on Galloway! You  _need_  this man!"

Megatron raised an optic ridge at the organic that had dared to lecture him, dared to order  **him** about. "You have our positions perverted, fleshling." His processor observed that the ex-soldier was twisting at a golden band on his left fleshy servo, but did not comment on it. He would ask his Queen's bodyguard about it later, for he had seen many of those metal rings.

Exasperated and eyeing the Extractor that hovered in its place just over the gaping jaw, Lennox elaborated, " _Please_. You want to torture Galloway as much as I do. Why not experiment with  _him_? He knows about the message too." He was just trying to buy time until the Autobots arrived; Galloway could not stay hidden forever, and Lennox didn't wish a fate like this on that man even if he was a backstabbing coward.

It wasn't  _right_  to do so. He wanted the man to pay for his actions, but not like this.

Megatron growled. "Clever, human. But why not use it on  _both_?" He was just as eager as ever to inflict torture and suffering, his zeal revealing itself in the claws that clashed against each other on his empty servo.

 _I need something that will hit him where it hurts._ "Is that perhaps one of the things that scared Eleaniris away from you? What if she is fearful of your, your  _ability_  to take whatever you want?" Megatron didn't answer, but his wordless actions did the speaking for him.

Simmons sighed in relief once the offending worm was taken away, removed yet again from his chest. Burns and Lennox relaxed a tad as well. Deciding that praise might be the best way to keep it from happening to anyone else besides Galloway, Lennox continued sincerely, "I think Eleaniris might have liked this."

Megatron didn't look back as he left them, only ordering that the three were to be taken back to their cells.

After they had cleaned up and eaten.

* * *

"Come, creature. I will not harm you."

Borealis watched him warily, the purple optics switching to Soundwave, who was situated behind the warlord, and then back to her mistress' mate.

Sure that he had the gryphon's attention, Megatron said slowly, "I know that you have the ability to speak to my sparkmate, to my Queen and beloved Empress."

He knelt on one leg joint so that he was more level with the regal winged creature, who unfurled her wings and watched him lower himself. "Tell her that I care so much about her, that I just want her back. Tell her that I am coming for her, that I will save her from Starscream."

"Please, Borealis. Let her know these things and make sure that she understands." To his astonishment the gryphon nodded, its purple optics sparkling and showing him that she would. She turned her back to him and laid down, which he took as a sign that he was to leave.

* * *

Crestfallen, worried and disappointed he had returned from his search the next morning. His spark and processor ached, the latter from scanning for her and the former from fret over how she was being treated with Starscream. He wished now that he had forged a connection with Borealis when she was younger; then he might be able to speak to her and cajole her into telling her where she was.

Assuming that she knew her whereabouts, that is. Starscream may be a fool most times, but it was not all the time.

_She was willing to dance for me, to show herself off like that; something happened that made her change her mind, something scared her into running away from me._

_But what?_

The comment one of her past soldiers had made had pricked a sensitive wire underneath his thick battle-grade armor, disturbing him so far as to make him leave the rebel alone. It implied that Eleaniris was worried about being treated that way by him should she make him angry enough. Though he knew that he was prone to mortally - and sometimes fatally - wounding his subordinates whenever he was displeased, he didn't want Eleaniris to be fearful of his touch. He wanted her submissive, but not submissive to the point of being downright  _terrified_  all the time.

They had plenty of time left together, hopefully vorns and vorns. Spending it all with her skittish and jittery, fearful to make a mistake and invoke his wrath, would be miserable for both her and himself.

And any sparklings that precious,  _delicious_  belly would give him.  _Why is Carrier so scared?,_ he could hear an innocent little voice asking. His spark twisted at the thought of his creations seeing their Carrier in such a state: afraid of their Sire.

He channeled these thoughts into improving his handling and reassurance skills in the lesson with Susan that morning. It was difficult, given that she was so much smaller than him, and Susan had implicitly directed him to the conclusion that Eleaniris was afraid of him because of this size difference.

That, too, was at the centre of the matter that she was fearful of his capabilities when angry and that, someday, they would be focused on her. His size was the problem. He had hoped that his strength and stature, sturdiness and burliness of his frame would be pleasurable for her. That they would make her feel safe, well-protected, and very much cared for while she stayed in his grasp.

Trust also seemed to be at fault. If she trusted him, why would she worry about being subject to furious harm inflicted by himself? She would know, deep in her spark, that he wouldn't hurt her.

Or, at least, that it would take more anger than usual for him to do so.

When Susan had left though, she had told him that she thought he was improving. Such a patronising remark in any other situation would have resulted (at a minimum) a long stay in the medbay with only egotistical Knockout for company, but on this occasion he let it go.

He might not have if he saw the hate in that femme's optics. If he knew that she did not forget the contents of that datapad that fate had let her see, that at her first chance she would tell Eleaniris what they were.

From there he had climbed up to his apartments, smirking when he saw the human recharging under the sectional. "Human," he said nonchalantly, on all fours to peer at him. The male jumped, having been startled awake, and instantly stood at attention without moving his organic eyes from his amused optics.

"You inspected these rooms, did you not?" Megatron straightened and addressed him in a professional tone.

Wilson had, all right. As soon as Soundwave had left - why would he steal anything, and what could he do with guards at the doors? - he had tried to find the panel in the wall, only to decide that he couldn't escape and risk him killing the others. He couldn't leave men behind; that was a Galloway move.

So he had set about his assigned task, taking careful mental notes of the placement of the strange, huge furniture and presence of what he presumed to be Eleaniris' belongings on one of the "nightstands." The Emperor's suite was  _huge_  and made him feel very  _small_. He couldn't imagine how much worse it was for Eleaniris, since she was his "mate" and all.

"I did." Wilson was amazed that the monster actually lowered an enormous hand for him to step into, instead of roughly plucking him up like a fallen paper.

It rose to be level with the monster's face when he spoke, "Did you find anything that she would find unsatisfactory?"

Wilson felt as if he had found the Fountain of Astonishment as the silver giant questioned him. He appeared to care so  _much_  for his President, yet so astonishingly  _little_  for any other humans. His "troops" - to Wilson, a retired Marine like Burns, they were thugs - were allowed to run rampant across Earth, killing and destroying as they desired. He couldn't understand what made Eleaniris so different, really. Sure Megatron had explained that she was his "soulmate" and all, but was that true or was it as bogus as some thought the moon landing was?

He didn't know. But it did not fail to amaze him regardless.

"I have one suggestion." Megatron raised one of his metal eyebrows and his eyes hardened again with seriousness. Wilson rubbed the back of his neck, "Have you thought that she might like someplace to, well, relax?"

The metal head leaned to one side, metal groaning and clicking to compensate for the movement. "I mean, she probably feels small in here and very exposed. Maybe someplace more suited to her size might make her feel more…"

His next words carried so much weight. Wilson felt as if he was betraying her, the enslaved human race, and even the principles of goodness as he finished his sentence. They were permanent, unable to be erased or changed, and tasted like surrender to monsters that took what they wished - including human Presidents - because they wished to do so.

Yes, surrender was their dreadful flavour.

"at home."

Wilson chuckled morbidly and rubbed his neck again, thinking of the piano he had seen, "A nightstand is an odd place to put a piano anyway, right?"

Megatron straightened his head and nodded, deep in thought, "Noted." He could feel that he was grasping at bolts, desperate to understand her, when he theorised that something in their suite had been what had cracked her. He wanted her to feel safe and at home within his fortress; perhaps she could have a room or two for her to relax in. Additionally if she knew she had somewhere safe to hide from his considerably larger self, would that not make her more trusting and maybe less fearful? He could always reach her with the assistance of a Subspace Mass Distribuitor cuff, but he would avoid doing so and alienating her yet again.

He would assign Hook to the responsibility later; if his Queen was to have an apartment connected to his, it would not be second to any in style. That particular Constructicon was an uncontested perfectionist, and he seemed apt to treat Eleaniris well enough when he had repaired her before after the unpleasant experience with two glitched-up subordinates of his. Besides, he could not take her with him on  _all_  of his conquering offensives; some might be too dangerous for his comfort, and he wanted her safe on the Decepticon homeworld of Earth for those. A berth that was suited to her size might be welcome for those days when she would recharge alone.

"The humans William Lennox and Flavius Burns wear golden bands on their fingers. I have noticed that other human males and females bear them as well. What is their significance?" Megatron had not bothered with this before, but he was not one to willingly miss information that might help him with winning Eleaniris. He had hunted down and found some leaders who clung to their mates, their females, and bore similar bands. How they had tried in vain to protect them from him, from the one and only Emperor of Destruction.

Megatron almost gave his characteristic, sinister half-smirk at the memory of some of them. Tearing them apart had been easy and gleeful, and he had relished in his power to do as he wished with their disposable lives. Typically he had had the females watch their mate die by his servos and would then torment it as it cried in anguish, mockingly stroking it with claws slathered in its male's blood until he got bored and terminated it.

Yes, they meant something to the humans.

Wilson sighed. Maybe he could avoid marriage and just talk about the proposal aspect.

"When men successfully court a woman, they give her a ring to show that he wants her to become his wife." Wilson wanted to stay vague enough that Megatron wouldn't try to replicate it with Eleaniris and torture and defile her even further, and he thought he had done well so far. "In western - or American - culture it is common custom that a man takes only  **one**  wife, and only if she agrees."

He fixed Megatron with a questioning stare, "You don't intend to take more mates after her, do you?" Wilson tried to distract him with questions about his alien culture as he strived to divert the huge, lustful beast away from ideas of a proposal that Eleaniris would be forced to accept.

Away from mockeries of as well as insults to human courtship. Evil always seemed to go lower and lower and lower.

Relief and distress clashed in Wilson's chest as Megatron replied with a definitive, cold, resounding "No." All doubt fled his mind when he saw the offended look in those red eyes.

Pain at the thought of Eleaniris having to be the only one to bear the weight of Megatron's "affection" - since he would take no other wives to diffuse his attentions from her - and relief since she would be respected, at least in that small way. Behind those red orbs he could practically hear Megatron's mind percolating, churning at it thought of ways to woo the object of its attention. It seemed as though he had failed; this monster was going to try to  _propose_  to her and was probably already thinking up ring designs.

Out of all the galaxies to choose, out of all the planets to invade, out of all the women on this singular, third rock from the sun he had had to pick his Eleanor, the first female President of the United States. Of course.

That poor woman had the  _worst_  luck in history.


	58. The Reluctant Resignation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Eleaniris had an incredibly fuzzy idea of how long she had been with Starscream's rebels. It had been hard to tell in the beginning, because she had very little access to visuals of the outside world besides her occasional nighttime outings with Skywarp. She remembered during those times that Susan had wanted to comm. her with urgent news, as Borealis kept reminding her, but was never far enough away from Skywarp to have a conversation.

Thundercracker spent some time with her, but it seemed to be very limited. He said that Starscream took him on many missions to try to sabotage Megatron's "assets" or steal Energon, and that it was getting harder and harder to do so. He never said why it was, until today when she figured it out herself.

Skywarp had eventually taught her about her internal chronometer so she could tell the time, but it was useless since she could only count days since that point. She didn't have an overall idea of the duration of her stay. But the length of time she was with them did not take precedence over what was done to her in however long she was here.

She didn't like to think about the things that she was forced to do, or how they made her feel, when Skywarp or Thundercracker hadn't been there to save her. Though they, especially the latter, had tried to console her and make her feel better after she had serviced one of the mechs, it didn't help her much. In her own mind what kept her afloat was that she was determined to keep herself from becoming a victim; Eleaniris repeated in her head, over and over, that she was a  _survivor_ ,  **not** a  _casualty_.

But maybe she was a victim; not  _once_  had she tried to use her bow to defend herself and her dignity. Maybe she had given up in that aspect; all of them were so much bigger than her that they could force her to do whatever they wanted, like a rag doll. Using her bow might take one down, but there were always others to subdue and punish her.

Starscream didn't interact with her much; he ignored her for the most part. In the beginning she was cheeky, even degrading his Prince of Vos status with a reply to one of his snide comments, "Don't get fresh with me, Prince of Bel Air," she had snipped in a rare bout of humour. His response was a shriek and a slap that sent her flying. Skywarp had caught her before she could hit a wall, thankfully, but it had scared her into timidity around him.

Despite this, she had looked to him for help when she was being mocked, scorned and slandered by his mechs and he didn't even lift a finger to help her, let alone speak out on her behalf like Megatron had. The only exception to his ignorance of her after her comment was the strange stares she caught him giving her every once in awhile. They were impossible to read, but they made shivers run up and down her spine - or strut, as Skywarp told her it was.

That mech she didn't want to think about either. He was kind to her, true, and had learned to be gentle and pick up on human jokes rather well. It seemed like every other day she overheard him telling someone about why the "cyberhen" crossed the road. Yet, with every almost-benevolent and tender action she felt that there was an underlying meaning. He was trying to buy his favour for use later down the road for who knows what.

Maybe he wasn't done with trying to make her his mate.

After an especially bad molestation, she remembered thinking about how different Megatron was. She thought of him more and more, comparing him to this and that in situations he usually won. It was whittling her down little by little, similar to the effect of a knife on the bark of a stick. Eleaniris even asked herself at one point,  _Is it even possible for Stockholm Syndrome to work_ _ **after**_ _captivity?_

She shifted on Skywarp's shoulder, pulling her torn cloak tighter around her naked body as the purple Seeker continued on his way to the outside, where he promised that he would take her for a bath. She thought herself lucky to have even retained the cloth, considering that it had been ripped off of her too many times to count by too many mechs bent on having some sort of sexual gratification.

Her lip curled and optics watered with coolant - as she had learned it was called, again from Skywarp - at the thought.  _Survivor. Mockingjay,_ she echoed to herself in a sad mantra to keep from engaging in senseless crying,  _Survivor. Mockingjay._

The night sky was beautiful as it ever was, and so very  _clear_. The thousands and thousands of stars that constituted the Milky Way twinkled in the dark, proof that some things never changed. Even though her life had been flipped upside down multiple times by many alien robots, the stars had stayed consistent for her. With every day they left, and with every night they came back in the same position they always were in. The Earth couldn't change were the stars were, no matter how many times it rotated in its orbit around the Sun.

Sometimes she felt like Earth, spinning in circles and never changing anything. No matter what she did, change was an action that was no longer within her grasp.

It was a good thing that she had been looking up when she was, for Skywarp wasn't. It was a good thing that the stars seemed to blink out, one after another on the distant horizon, like they were dying and fading like humans in Chicago two years ago. It was a good thing that she noticed, for the alternative wasn't preferable at the moment.

"Skywarp," she whispered in fear, raising a shaking servo to point at the black mass moving towards them. He raised his red optics and followed her gaze to lock on the ominous opaque vessel that moved liked a cloud in an Oklahoma windstorm; silently yet quickly, even though it was enormous.

"Good job, Squeaker." He breathed, turning quickly on his heel and re-entering the base. A large door sat to the side of the tunnel, obviously shaped to fit in the opening to close it from the outside. She had never seen it used, but Skywarp grabbed it now and pushed it over the entrance. The sound of the Energon in her veins was all she could hear as Skywarp broke into a run down the tunnel and she clutched onto his shoulder and neck plating for dear life.

She knew what it was as soon as she had made out a general shape. It was one of Megatron's warships.

Probably looking for her or Starscream. That was the holdup Thundercracker was talking about. That was why Skywarp wasn't used for his teleportation abilities to raid Energon plants; he was so foolhardy that he would draw the attention of one of those huge flying fortresses and that would be it. Thundercracker, the one Decepticon she had come to like, was gone so often because his craftiness and common sense was needed. Evidently common sense was a rare trait among the Seekers. At least the ones that had defected Megatron's cause, at any rate.

Regardless, seeing the warship actually flying, looking for her, pushed her worry about being found back to the front of her mind from the cold, dark recesses it had been discarded to. The result was a feeling akin to waking up from anesthesia-induced unconsciousness - a sudden yet numb awakening.

He was hunting for her. Really  _hunting_ for her.

And it was only a certain amount of time before he found her.

Did she really  _want_ to stay hidden from him? Despite her pride and hatred for  _him_ , the conqueror and destroyer of her home, she did miss him in certain ways. That was the only conceivable explanation for her constant Megatron-Starscream comparison game. It was also a similar feeling to one she had seemingly so long ago, when the parties had just started.

" _Precious, please." Megatron said lowly, dipping his helm. "Consider it." He kept his distance, which she was thankful for, and even said please. He never said that in front of his officers._

" _Consider what?" She eyed him suspiciously._

" _Well," he appeared surprised that she had let him continue, his enormous body shifting its multiple tons of weight from one ped to the other and optic ridges rising slightly. "I want you to honor me with your presence at a party in your honor."_

_He cocked his helm at her, optics soft with hope, but she wasn't going to have any of that from the murderer of a billion and denied him flatly._

" _No."_

_The gigantic leader of the Decepticons slouched in his stance, his shoulders drooping slightly and gaze breaking away from her. He held this for a few moments in which she felt tense for his unpredictable actions and then nodded once._

_And left. There were no words, no icy demeanor that he had usually when he was disappointed or angered. He was just gone, no trace present that he had even come in to speak to her._

_She was puzzled as to why he just left instead of breaking something or saying that she was "going to go anyway." He was calmly disappointed but the air had not turned frigid under the stare of those fiery red optics, a combination that usually happened together. Though it didn't this time._

_Which made her feel a little guilty, though she was hardly the offender in this situation. She was the one he had victimized with his rout of her planet, with his nonchalant and callous_ _ **slaughter**_   _of her people._

_The couch was where she had decided to rest that night, as she did not want him to come back in the middle of the night to see her willingly sleeping in "their" berth. She would wake up in random intervals, spooked by some sound or other and the proceeding to check for him in the berthroom every time she did. What disturbed her, though, was that upon onlining her optics and realizing where she was and who wasn't with her she would miss, for just a fraction of a second, those expansive and strong chestplates._

_When she awakened the sixth time, covered with a beautiful, soft, grey caribou fur (she guessed) blanket and the light of the morning sun, a single purple rose was waiting for her. There was no attached paper to the flower that sat so innocently yet so disturbingly close to her and no indication of who it was from other than her own intuition._

_After folding up the blanket that she had no memory of ever seeing before, she left it and the rose on the couch and climbed down to go get some Energon._

_Wheelie called her when he saw her on the floor, making her jump in surprise, "Lady Eleaniris!"_

_She spun around and saw him, holding an open Energon cube underneath the couch, Borealis beside him. Her cube was already empty, lying on the floor in front of her. A third unopened cube was pushed towards her by one of the gryphon's front paws._

_She smiled and approached the two, greeting them cheerfully though she was still unsettled about the appearance of the rose and blanket. "Thank you for getting this for me," she thanked and sat down to pick up and enjoy her Energon. It was very different, but she had started to get used to it._

" _We didn't." Wheelie admitted nervously, fidgeting in his customary way. "They were out when we woke up."_

_It was good that she hadn't been drinking, because she might have spewed whatever was in her mouth and made yet more work for the enslaved humans that cleaned this room. "Who did then?"_

_They didn't answer and neither looked her in the optic, probably thinking she was angry. Inside, though, she felt guilt creep up even further from her stomach, making its presence known in her now-tight chest._

_Maybe it was rude to refuse him like that. She could have at least said "No, thank you" to him. Just because he was evil didn't mean that she could be impolite._

_She tried to snuff out the regret and distracted herself in the library that day. She could have commed Soundwave to ask about Megatron, since her pride wouldn't even let her consider directly comming Megatron, but decided not to. She opted to make a power play and spend her time reading another book that she had meant to before the Invasion. As President she had been a busy. stressed woman. As the Slave Queen she had plenty of free time in which stress still took over if she wasn't distracted._

_Even with the book, which was very good, she still found herself feeling guilty at times when she would take a break to rest her optics or stretch muscle cables. It was annoying her enough that she startled Grace with her angry expression, and she had had to profusely apologise for scaring her and explain that it was not the styist's fault. After that, mood ruined and seeing through the windows that it was afternoon anyway, she went back upstairs._

_Again she did not see him when she returned. Again she recharged on the couch without pulling the blanket over her - out of stubborn pride, not a lack of love for it- to wake up with yet another rose and the throw spread neatly on her frame. Again Borealis and Wheelie had called her over and given her an Energon cube that had been set out by Megatron himself._

_This time, though, the guilt gnawed through her last nerve. An angry Megatron was definitely much easier to hate._

_Comming Soundwave bore her no fruit; the Second-in-Command did not know the whereabouts of her "mate" and had only offered to comm. him for her. Denying quickly and covering up with "It's okay, you have a job to do," she decided to wait to see if he came back._

_At sunset a familiar pattern of booming footsteps outside the door made her put down her datapad, and when he came in looking like a scolded puppy she abandoned her power play and reluctantly said that she would go._

_Megatron had smiled and dipped his helm, but did not say anything to her. Instead he pushed her gently, as always, onto her back and spread the formerly-folded, large blanket over her body again. He whispered a gravelly, "Recharge well, my Queen" and went into their berthroom._

_She was confused yet relieved - only in part, she had been disturbed to find - that he did not force her to sleep with him as he usually did. He left her alone and gave her much-needed space until the morning when she came out of recharge to find his shrunken form snuggled up behind her, a strong arm thrown over her belly protectively and his face pressed into the nook of her neck and shoulder._

_And she had felt relief. For a mortifying hundredth of a second she was pleased to see him there again._

Yes. She missed him in a Stockholm-ish way. She  _definitely_ preferred him to Starscream.

So what was holding her back from telling Borealis of her location? The gryphon spoke to her all the time, carrying Megatron's message of missing her and wanting her back with him. It wasn't that she was unreachable, because Borealis always responded, even late at night, when Eleaniris wanted something to distract her from what she had just done.

It was pride. She didn't want to crawl back to Megatron. She didn't want to cry into his shoulder about what had befallen her. That tasted too much like surrender and acceptance.

But now, did she have a choice?

Either way she was extremely likely to end up back in his servos at some point. If she was dragged back to him, kicking and screaming by one of his officers, the results might be worse than if she submitted.

Eleaniris readjusted her grip when Skywarp went skidding around a corner, used to his recklessness and still very deep in thought. If she cried "uncle" another slave might not have to die. Megatron might say, as with her first escape attempt, that what had happened was "punishment enough."

Really, everything was the same between those two situations except, possibly, the punishment factor.

But it was not enough to force a decision yet. Her pride had not yet broken, even in the probable weeks she had been a pleasure slave for this base. She was not quite ready, though she sensed that she was close, to telling the gryphon where she was. Once she did, Borealis would find some way to convey "Hoover Dam" to Megatron and all would be over. It would be back to the palace, back to the city of her namesake. Her fate would be sealed.

Eleaniris decided to hold off. She couldn't beg for help, come to him on her knees with the things she had said to him, had called him.

Starscream's quarters came into focus, and Skywarp stumbled inside without knocking. Eleaniris didn't hear the incredibly short conversation, too involved in her own complicated weighing of her decisions, but did notice when the lights were dimmed but not turned off. The base was in lockdown.

"Eleaniris," Starscream purred, his red optics holding that odd look again. It wasn't like Megatron's indescribable look was, in which she did not know the name but wasn't disturbing; this was just plain leery and made her metal skin crawl as she shied into Skywarp's neck and her cloak.

"I've been meaning to speak to you, and this inane search of Megatron's provides the  _perfect_ opportunity." That's not good. Not good at all. He was still purring his words with his golden tongue, but she did not miss the sneer that his lip components made at the name  _Megatron_.

Thinking it best not to reply but just watch him warily, that was exactly what she did.

"You see, I've decided that you will make a perfect Queen for me, the Grand Emperor and Supreme Commander of the Decepticon forces." She didn't move but her heart - or whatever was in her chest now - was pulsing rapidly with fear. Her submissive, admittedly more pro-Megatron side snarled,  _You're not Supreme Commander yet!_

It was true that she had neither wings nor a t-cog, but from Starscream's perspective, what was keeping him from taking multiple Queens? Eleaniris just wouldn't be sparked up with his young and would simply be a trophy. Easy.

"I've watched you pleasure my mechs and I'm eager to see how you will do so for me,  _sweet_ seekerlet."  _You don't need to remind me that you stood by and did nothing to stop it._

Starscream walked around his makeshift desk - Megatron's was  _so_ much more impressive - and up to where she sat on Skywarp's shoulder. His gait was tickling her memory again, reminding her that she knew him from somewhere though she did not know his faceplates from anywhere before her original capture. He looked at her with cold optics and her grip unconsciously tightened on the plates underneath her fingers.

"I even have a little something for you."

Abruptly he turned around, walking to some shelves behind the pitiful pile of metal and tin he called a desk. From this elevated angle, with a view of his backplates, her Energon went cold and stopped in her veins. Her jaw closed and clenched, her denta meeting each other and her white optics narrowing in cold derision.

She knew him. She knew those silver wings and backplates, the back of his terrible helm. Never before had she viewed him from this angle and behind, and now that she did she saw her sister's face over his shoulder, mouth open impossibly wide in an agonized scream and tears coming from painfully closed eyes. Eleaniris saw, with astonishing clarity, Natalie dying yet again in those silver servos. The vision went limp slowly, her face slackening as her body accepted death.

Eleaniris was beyond sad at this point; this news was just salt on an already stinging wound. Rather, she was disgusted, irate, and…

Ready to call Megatron for help.

Starscream turned again and came back, this time toting a little tiara-like crown. He spoke and Eleaniris nodded dumbly, not listening and instead burning holes in his chest with her furious white optics. He smirked evilly and daintily placed the crown on her helm, carefully clicking it into place.

"Perfect," he cooed sweetly. Eleaniris pursed her lips with hate and annoyance.

The foolish and arrogant Seeker did not notice, and instead dismissed them. "I'll find you once this is over, Seekerlet." He purred creepily, making her shiver at his implied actions. She still wasn't used to them yet, which she was glad for, since it proved that she wasn't giving in.

As soon as Skywarp was in the hallway she finalized her decision.

Once, Thundercracker had asked her what living with his former master was like. She didn't remember her exact words, but did know that she mentioned "sex slave" somewhere.

" _He just…" She looked down at her servos, sagging her shoulders a little in hopelessness. "Treats me like a sex slave."_

" _How so?" Thundercracker's gentle red optics focused on her from his place in his desk chair. Against her will he had given her his berth to recharge in, insisting that it was the least he could do after everything that had been done to her._

" _The kisses, nuzzling…" she shuddered and murmured so lowly that she saw Thundercracker lean forward to hear her, "licks."_

" _Eleaniris," her helm turned only slightly to the side, so that she was not looking at him directly. "There is something that you should know."_

" _I don't think that is what he was trying to accomplish." His servos were folded in his lap and she trusted him enough to let him go on._

" _You've told me that he has let you recharge beside him, as disgusting as you find it." Thundercracker's helm cocked to the side, his voice gentle and careful. "He hasn't done that before, with any of his...femmes."_

" _Probably because I'm so pathetically small." She felt coolant prick at her optics. Her sides wanted so badly to convulse into sobs._

" _No." Thundercracker leaned on his elbows, "If you were a sex slave, he would not have done that."_

_It was her turn to cock her helm. "Why?"_

" _He would have taken you by now." His tone was full of derision and contempt for the subject he was introducing. "And never would he have recharged with you, letting you see him in his most vulnerable state."_

" _I have served him for millions of years-"_

" _So he was lying about his age." She said to herself, interrupting Thundercracker. He paused but then continued, not giving any reply to her ponderance._

" _I have served him for millions of years, Eleaniris. I have seen the femmes he chose brainwashed and tortured so that they would be more easily seduced and pulled into his berth." She gaped at him, not surprised that Megatron had had these things done but in fact astonished that she had not been a victim to this._

" _Have you_ _ **heard**_   _of the Justice Division, Eleaniris? They-" Thundercracker's serious tone was again cut off when Skywarp's voice drifted in from beyond the door. Something about another Energon raid._

_When he came back, the subject was not mentioned again. This Justice Division seemed to be a taboo subject and one that Thundercracker, or anyone else, did not want to speak of. She had brushed his advice off anyway, not comfortable with his testimony and liking her own version of the truth. It was more believable, more easily pinned on a genocide-instigating evil robot, that said monster was trying to make her into a sex slave. And who was to say that those things would never be done to her? What if he snapped and decided that he was done with chasing her?_

_Her processor, however, told her that he would have resorted to it by now if he was going to at all. She didn't admit it, finding that possible truth too hard to swallow, and stamped the thought out whenever it crossed her mind._

Did she want to stay with her sister's killer? The Seeker that actually  _condoned_  his mechs using her for their pleasure? The one that didn't lift a finger to help her, only to hurt her? Her mind whispered to her,  _Is your pride worth more than your dignity?_

The question broke her last wall and she finalized her choice.

' _Borealis? Are you there girl?'_ She bit her lip, stifling the urge to cry her emotions out, to let her body deal with the stress in its own way. Even she knew, though, that it wouldn't work. There was too much pressure for her to ever get rid of, so much that trying to remove it would be like moving an ocean with a teaspoon. There was some from not being able to defend Earth, not being able to protect her sister from that bastard Starscream, not having the ability to stay away from Megatron's clutches, not having the power to free her people from the monster trying to woo her, not being able to fend for herself in a world that had gotten all the more cruel to her with sexual abuse…

If she was human, she might have died from the strain of being the Slave Queen. She felt like Atlas, only not as strong and starting to bend under the weight of the world.

And Megatron's hydraulics-powered fist.

Her fight was in vain, like a mouse trying to move a boulder. All it did was amuse the onlookers and, especially, the boulder.

' _I am here, mistress.'_ Borealis responded immediately, as she did usually, but her tone was more worried than it was last time.

Eleaniris tried to take a deep breath but settled for a long, slow vent instead, all the more missing her human lungs and the calming effect that action had had. ' _Borealis, I cave. Let him know that I am…_

The gryphon waited anxiously for the rest of the reply. ' _In the Hoover Dam.'_

' _And tell him to hurry.'_ A bruise on one's pride hurt the most of all wounds, Eleaniris was finding more and more.

Borealis jumped up from Soundwave's couch, her wires tingling with her excitement and worry. ' _I will mistress. Please stay safe.'_

' _And comm. Susan if you can. It is very important.'_ The purple-opticed gryphon flew to the door, flapping madly in front of the sensors to have it open. Once it did, though, she went back to the couch with the heavy realization that she didn't know how to tell Megatron about Eleaniris. She couldn't speak and couldn't play back things that Eleaniris had told to her processor. Sadly she set her helm on her paws, mulling over how to bring her mistress' specific location to her mate.

Eleaniris nodded before she remembered that Borealis couldn't see the action and said ' _Yes'_  to the voice in her helm. She didn't know how Borealis would reveal the relatively specific information to Megatron or anyone, since she could not articulate words like most could, but Eleaniris knew Borealis would find a way.

Deep in her chassis, she felt a small weight lift and her "heart" fluttered happily.  _See? He'll save you. He'll take care of you._

The lights were coming back on now, a sign that the ship had passed and that activities were going back to normal. Though the environment around her had lightened, her soul had depressed and darkened to shades deeper than the night. She felt the impulse to wail again.  _The President cannot save herself. How sick. But who am I kidding?_

_I am the Slave Queen. I can save no one, not even myself._

"Can we go outside Skywarp?" His optics looked to her but his helm did not move. "I need to take a bath."

"We can in a- what do you call it again?"

"A minute?" She asked hopefully, wanting to see if she could get away to comm. Susan. Borealis had sounded scared and worried when she spoke to Eleaniris, making the President even more stressed.

"No. The longer one." She deflated.

"An hour?"

"Yes, that one."  _What could have Susan so upset for so long that she still needs to comm. me?_

* * *

Knockout had been in the library as often as his schedule allowed ever since he got wind of some unpaired femmes working there. He had always seen the same ones, but knew they were already claimed. He knew that there should be five femmes in the library, according to the palace files he had happened across, and yet he had only seen the same three. So where were the single ones?

The medic tried to enter every solar cycle to see if he could find one and his method had not been useful until today.

The femme had a pair of pretty green optics, the likes of which he had seen rarely before. The Decepticons all bore red optics and the Autobots blue; there was never anything in between. Not since the war had started.

Sophia groaned internally when she spotted the red mech coming her way. It was too late to run and hide now like she had before, as he had already spotted her by the smirk on his face.  _Just play it cool._

"What can I doOO-" He swept her up like she weighed nothing. Frustrated she hit his servo, snarling at him and forgetting about playing it cool. "Put me down!"

"Will you be a good little femme if I do?" Knockout purred, liking how she tried to fight him even though it was getting her nowhere. A  _little_  spunk would keep things interesting.

"Yes! Just put me down!" He walked to one of the tables and set her down, promptly cutting off her escape routes by putting his servos on either side.

"Now, let me see…" He had decided that he liked her rare green optics, so he looked over the rest of her. Sophia stood frozen, her processor working as fast as it could to figure out what she could do.  _Remember how father said to do it. All those corporate meetings you sat in on…_

She sighed and cocked a hip, feigning indifference as she looked at one servo and crossed the other arm over her stomach. Sophia hoped that he would be offended that she wasn't impressed with him and might leave her alone like the others had. She pretended to look over her metal nails, though they hadn't grown and probably never would.

Knockout smirked at this, observing with interest how the little femme checked her servos for presumed scratches. Her concern for her looks wasn't turning him off in the slightest. In fact, he was ready to drag her back to his quarters now.

"I find that you're satisfactory." He drawled, tuning his olfactory sensors carefully to memorize her scent. "I'm sure our sparklings will be beautiful."  _If I can get one of those cuffs I've heard so much about, that is._

The femme had the  _audacity_  to roll her optics at him. "You're pathetic. You can't just walk in and take me."

He jerked his helm backwards at her insult. "My finish is perfect! What more would you want?"

"You don't even know my name. Besides, I haven't been offered anything yet." Knockout curled his lip with impatience.

"Speak, then, my dear femme."

"My name is Sophia." Sophia switched the servo she was studying, her gaze not focused on him as she fixated on her more "important" task. "And I don't give a damn about your finish."

He shrieked at the insult, baring his denta. "Another insult and I'll-"

"What?" Sophia recalled her corporate-shark father, mirroring his stature and making her stance wide, "Scream? Tell me what you are offering."

Knockout growled, furious at the femme's stubbornness. Her fiery persona was starting to tire him. "I offer you the pride of having a genius and handsome mech for your mate."

Sophia laughed, throwing her helm back to let out her beautiful yet condescending laugh. Frantically she tried to remember the name of a mech she had heard thrown about in a negative way. Hopefully it would insult this mech enough to leave her alone.

"I've had better offers from  _Scavenger_."

Knockout's jaw dropped at the mention of the blundering sucker of the Constructicons. The mech was truly pathetic and a stain to both his comrades and the Decepticons in general. If it wasn't for his special ability to detect rare materials with his shovel, he would have been dumped a long time ago.

"Really?  _What_  did  _he_  offer you?" Knockout was willing and very eager to beat the other's price for this femme. She had a good, strong frame, though she was a little skinnier about her hips than he would have preferred; he was sure that birthing would not be a problem for her however. She appeared sturdy enough to handle carrying his young.

 _Make something up. Quick._ "He said he was going to provide me with luxury; jewels, delicate armor, all the like." He purred internally at her likeness to him, terribly enthralled with this femme. He had her in his jaws now and never was he going to let go, like a mechanimal that had caught its prey.

Sophia gulped and added as a backup, "He was also going to be gentle with me and let me make some of my own choices."  _Please believe that._

Knockout's optics narrowed in concentration, contemplating the femme before him. "I will match his offer. In the meantime," He purred, butting his nasal platting against her slim belly and making her jump backwards, only to hit his servo. Knockout nuzzled her gently, making his touches as light as he knew how while also leaving traces of his scent on her. Any other mech that neared her would smell another on his dear Sophia.

"I need a little information."

She fetched what he requested quickly, shivering at how disgusted she felt. That mech was so domineering and she wanted to take a shower.  _I wonder if this is what Eleaniris experienced. And she was with him for her every waking moment._

"I'll see you later sweetspark!" He said in a sing-song tone, purring deeply in his chassis as he watched her perky aft run away from him. He could see what Megatron saw in these miniature femmes.

Strutting proudly out of the library with his prey finally in his sights, he walked back to the medical bay to continue his research. With any luck he would get somewhere in his study.

Since Megatron had said to the humans that Eleaniris was his sparkmate, Knockout had decided to brush up on his knowledge of the ancient subject. So far he had found little; all he knew was that there were of different levels of rarity and spark "compliment-ness." Any information on those had escaped him, for it seemed that not many Cybertronians found their destined mate.

Sitting down in a chair in the back of the empty medbay, he opened the datapad and grinned at what he saw. Being the gossip he was, he had craved the specifics of his master's attraction to one particular femme. It had never happened before, to his knowledge, for Lord Megatron to fixate on a single femme and not solely for the a single night in the berth.

Today was his lucky day, it seemed, for this datapad held more information than he could have believed, all contained in the ancient scripts that waited for him to translate them. The telltale words and phrasing of the Ancient Cybertronian gave away their contents, and that it was, in fact, a goldmine of information about sparkmates. Perfect.

* * *

" _So we can't progress forward? Why again?"_ Optimus vented heavily, studying the dark sky of the red planet they currently occupied.

" _We know that there are ships patrolling the asteroid belt, Ironhide."_ Ratchet answered for him, sensing the Prime's steadily waning patience. Their leader had a very high tolerance, but it only went so far. Everyone had a line.

" _One must pass by closely enough that Mirage can sabotage it and we can board. Until that happens, we remain here."_ Optimus clarified, still watching the sky and listening to the radio waves carrying the alien language.

" _So they are Decepticon ships?"_ Ironhide sounded wary, and rightfully so. Little had been seen or heard about their enemies for a decent while, which was hardly a good sign.

" _Yes."_ Optimus heard but did not understand a radio wave that contained the sounds " _President Kennedy has been shot-"_ He blocked out the transmissions for a moment.

" _The Decepticons are about."_

* * *

"You have to let me talk to her. Please." The human woman begged the femme, looking up with imploring grey eyes. " _Please_." Her voice had died to a low whisper, carrying so much emotion for so quiet a tone.

"I will consider it. But not much can be done right now." The femme knelt to be level with the human woman. "You must wait for destiny to take its course. I am sorry."

"What they've done to her-"

"Look at how strong she has been." The femme countered, cocking her helm to the side. "There is a plan. But you must wait."

 


	59. The Hunt and the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. A few innuendos and mild cursing.

"Like this?"

"R-right. Try a little smaller."

Megatron tried to tuck his broad shoulders in further without progress. They were simply too large to be hidden any more; there was no place for his bulk to go.

Susan had been…  _guiding_  him with impr-  _honing_  his skills daily and he believed that he had progressed a bit. He had wanted Eleaniris to be returned to him of course, but he preferred that she be brought back when he wouldn't scare her again.

It was frustrating, though, that there was no progress with her searches. Even his own attempts had borne him nothing for his expended fuel. She was as gone as a lone femme in the streets of Kaon, and the thought of her being molested by Starscream made his optics glow with a fiery light and his fists clench in a grip that crushed sparks. He would get her back, and he would not scare her away again.

With this thought Megatron recalled of the newest of her portraits, hung in his upstairs, private office. The organic, brightly colored, sometimes fluffy creatures were perched on her slender arms, a few on the crown on her helm, trying to pick up the "seeds" in her cupped servos. He remembered standing by, mesmerized, as she lured the flighty, shy things into her grasp until they settled comfortably on her, some even preening. He had been sure to tense his wires to avoid making any movement that might scare them away from his mate, who had looked very peaceful with her optics offlined as she stood in the forest of their island.

She would be as nervous and scared of him as one of those creatures if he took the wrong course of action when he found her again. Her chambers and ring, he had been told but had yet to inspect, were ready and her bodyguards had seemingly adjusted to his presence, but all that was left was gaining her trust.

With how Susan nitpicked, he almost felt hopeless. And with him, Emperor and Supreme Commander of the Decepticon forces, hopelessness was not a common emotion. This single fact was slowly making him angry at the situation; he was not accustomed to not being in control of, well, everything.

Including Eleaniris' fear.  _It shouldn't exist,_ he growled mentally,  _not with_ _ **me**_   _as her mate. She should be the happiest, wealthiest, and safest female from here to the edge of infinity._

"A little more…" Susan coached, standing on the warlord's desk in front of his towering frame. He couldn't make himself any smaller without curling into a ball and he snarled as his rage spiked, optics brightening and making the femme stagger backwards in surprise and fear. This femme was forcing him to be ashamed of his size and this irked him to no end, for he was  _Megatron_. He should be able to flaunt his boundless power and stature without hinderance from tiny femmes such as  _she_.

He should be able to hold Eleaniris in his servos without making her scared and without curling into an undignified ball to make himself appear smaller to her.

"That is enough." He plucked her up and set her down on the ground, pressing a button on his desk that signaled for the waiting guard to come into his office to get her. "You are dismissed."

"And you will, as always, tell no one of this. It does not matter what rumours circulate or what you are asked, my  _direct order_  is that this remains confidential."

Susan nodded and held her servos up a little, consciously showing him that she understood while also unconsciously displaying submission. However the hard optics did not soften, the dark of the room only serving to make them appear brighter, and when the guard picked her up to take her out the door she felt them boring into her back with their cold gaze.

Once they were gone, the Supreme Commander laced his servos together with a heavy sigh from his vents. He had instinctively done what Susan had told him to  _not_  do to Eleaniris.

" _Don't let them get brighter like that. It makes me uncomfortable and probably does the same to her."_ Susan had explained nervously, " _Red is not associated with positive things for humans."_

 _Everything_  seemed to be wrong with his body. He was too big, his optics were too red, his stature too intimidating, his voice too rough, his presence too commanding... His lip components curled in an indignant snarl at the mention of humans and the association of them with Eleaniris.

She wasn't supposed to be human. Something had happened, something within the realm of religion that lay beyond the border that he, as a Decepticon, could not cross. There was a reason that the D.J.D. enforced secularism among his ranks.

Regardless, it was an error for her soul to be placed in a human body. She should have been born amongst his ranks, been brought to life as one of his own soldiers from one of the many machines he had cyberformed with the Allspark. If he had seen a picture of President Sherman earlier, perhaps before he had started to wreak havoc in New York with his mechs, he might have paid her White House a visit first and scooped her right out of her oval office. Her bodyguards, while lethal and fatally efficient for humans, would have been no match for his metal armor. Their bullets would have bounced right off of him, not even denting him, if they would have even shot at him with their President in his servo.

Indeed. He could have skipped the whole year of hunting for her if she was with him from the start. She could have had an upfront view of the destruction he could inflict with his own bare servos, instead of watching from afar with terrified grey eyes. The human military (as pathetic and weak as it was in comparison to his forces) would have hesitated upon seeing their leader in his grasp. They held life sacred, he knew, and this pause would have yielded more land to him quicker. Not that it would have never come under his jurisdiction anyway - it simply would have been faster.

Eleanor would have been fearful of him at first, but after witnessing all the endless power of his frame in battle turned to painstaking gentleness with her weak body, she might have learned to trust him sooner.

The only reason that she said that she hated him was because he made her feel scared. She had not been his during his conquering of her planet nearly one-and-a-half stellar cycles ago; she had been forced to cower and hide and fear him because that was what he had wished of her as a conquered leader, until he laid his optics on her photograph. He believed that her "hate" of him stemmed from the deep-rooted fear of the designation  _Megatron_ he had instilled in her spark.

If he had never made her feel so scared during his annexation, if he had caught her earlier, maybe she would be carrying a sparkling of his coding by now. Yet catching her that early and not killing her would have been nearly impossible. He had had to practice and cultivate his skills with Soundwave before he had ordered her to be brought to him the first time. Maiming or killing her wouldn't have done.

Megatron groaned and stood from his chair, flexing stiff cables in a stretch. When - not if, he was determined to believe - he retrieved her from the likely-brutal Starscream, whom had injured her before, she would be thankful. Eleaniris would be beside herself with relief when he nuzzled her ever so fragile body with his nasal plating. Fear would be dissipated, gone like the mist (Eleaniris had liked to see) in the morning sun.

If he could demonstrate his forged camaraderie with her bodyguard she would be pleased indeed.

No longer angry but slightly aroused, he set the security protocols for his office and departed it. The Headquarters for the Decepticon Command was as it should be; quiet yet filled with the sounds of typing and mechs hard at work, groups of them around some of the planning tables and others situated at consoles.

Though many of his forces' numbers were tasked with finding Eleaniris and bringing her in for their reward, work for the Empire still went on. Passing one of the tables working on schematics for the space bridges had him smirking - it would not be long until the Decepticons picked another system to be subjected to their ( _his_ ) will.

An excellent gift for his Queen. A token of his affection.

He had to stop these thoughts. They were only making his spike pressurize and cables tense.

" _My liege!"_ Pleased to have a distraction, he half-turned to see Brawl standing behind him. Megatron didn't know why he was here, but the camp supervisors were required to "check-in" at regular intervals. It must have been the truck's turn to give a customary report to one of his officers. Undoubtedly the datapad summarizing Brawl's reports would be waiting for him tomorrow.

It occurred to him that he needed a secretary. He knew he would only get busier when Eleaniris returned home and once the his ships fanned out across the neighboring stars. Every single report could not reach his optics. Not if he was to give his sparklings and sparkmate the attention they deserved from their respective Sire and mate.

" _Brawl_." The mech dipped his helm respectfully, acknowledging the silent order in his lord's voice.

" _I could not help but notice the presence of the lone femme in your office."_ Megatron remained stoic and raised an optic ridge when Brawl paused, giving the supervisor another unspoken order to continue. " _Perhaps, if the Queen's absence results in your… mechly needs going unfulfilled, you may find use in one of my skilled human females."_

" _They were trained for this very purpose, if your majesty would prefer-"_

Megatron's sudden roar resulted in many dropped datapads across the cavernous room as red optics swiveled to their massive leader. " _You insinuate that I will allow myself to be_ _ **touched**_   _by such filth?" And disloyal to my sparkmate,_ he thought but did not voice.

Brawl stepped back, urging in Cybertronian his apologies, " _That was not the intentio-"_

" _Human females will not be used for such purposes!"_ Megatron swiveled to let his optics sweep the room, now addressing all present. Yet another thing for him to deal with. Were his mechs completly incompetent? " _Mates are to be granted at_ _ **my**_ _discretion and mine only! Slaves are to be used to fulfill the needs of the Empire, not the needs of its members."_

He strolled about, changing his focal point to get his message across. " _The humans are inferior, and this disgrace will go on no longer!"_ Megatron stopped, venting heavily with fury at the  _disgusting_ suggestion that such animals were useful for the purpose of giving mechs pleasure; bestiality with lowly species was frowned upon among all as a dishonor. " _They are simply slaves to our might, slaves for the purpose of making the Decepticon Empire stronger and more powerful with the fuel and resources they yield us._ _ **Mates**_   _are_ _ **mates**_   _and_ _ **slaves**_   _are_ _ **slaves**_ _."_

" _Consider this a direct order."_ He didn't look back at the rigid Brawl, nor did he watch the respectful gazes tinged with fear follow him to the door.

Insinuating that he would have another femme fulfill his wishes and longing for Eleaniris was a grand insult to his pride. Eleaniris, from now onwards, would be the only femme that could come  _close_  to sating him - for he was insatiable in his berth. He had vowed long ago that Circuitsia would be the only one to bear his coding and carry his transfluid; it was unfit for anyone but his precious sparkmate.

More arousing thoughts.

Using his iron self-control, which had been instrumental in keeping him from terminating Starscream after his many failures, Skywarp after his disruptive pranks, and Eleaniris for her own biting remarks finally quelled his lust to a dull ebb. Instead he occupied his processor with climbing the stairs to his rooms.

By the time he reached his destination, his hunger had stopped and faded to the back of his mind to be replaced by the cold, clinical callousness that he was accustomed to. Hook and Scrapper were already waiting for him, as promised, awaiting eagerly his inspection of their finished product. Both mechs stood proudly outside his door, watching their leader with admiring optics.

He wouldn't dislike it if Eleaniris looked at him that way once in a hundred vorns.

" _Lord Megatron!"_  Scrapper greeted with a slight nod and a strong salute. " _The Queen's suite has been completed and is ready for your appraisal."_

With an almost direct contrast to Scrapper's humble tone, Hook issued his own greeting. " _It is one of my finest works, my liege."_ Megatron said nothing but did raise an optic ridge at Hook's implied claim to Scrapper's design. True to his modest persona, Scrapper did not contest his egotistical comrade's statement; one of the reasons that he preferred that Constructicon over the others.

" _You will wait here."_ He eyed Hook and added, " _Quietly."_

The formerly-frozen guards moved forth almost imperceptibly, a sign that the orders of the Supreme Commander would not be disobeyed and that they would enforce it if need be. Bypassing the twin drones, Megatron easily pushed open both doors and entered, swiftly closing them behind him. There was no sign of Eleaniris' bodyguard, who he had ordered to be present when he arrived here. He had hoped that the man would provide him with some thoughts as to what Eleaniris would like or dislike about her apartments.

He walked into his berthroom, carefully keeping his memory banks inactive to protect him for the deluge of files about Eleaniris, called to mind by his location and state of subdued arousal. He hoped that it would not be long before his Queen submitted to him; he was not sure how much longer he could keep himself at bay. "Wilson." Megatron growled, sweeping the room with his gaze and managing to ignore Eleaniris' piano. "Reveal yourself."

His optics stopped their movement when they registered the human male standing closely by the new, tall, narrow twin doors for Eleaniris' suite. The bodyguard was inspecting the inlaid panels with curious, light fingers that danced over the silver embellishments.

Coming closer, he snapped on his cuff and subspaced-away some of his mass, shrinking down to just taller than the male. The man looked at him and nodded, standing away from where he had crouched before. He had seen Megatron in this mode before, and it no longer shocked him nearly as much as the first time though he worried about what such an ability meant for Eleaniris.

Wilson let his eyes wander up the large doors, eyeing their height. He had imagined that the builders, whoever they were, did not have the cuff Megatron possessed to change size. Perhaps that had contributed to the doors being almost twenty feet in length. Megatron closed a clawed hand over one of the elegant, curved handles and pushed downwards, opening the door and walking in. Ben followed shortly, in awe of the room that met his eyes.

The room was still huge, but he found that it did not have the cavernous, empty, enormous feeling that Megatron's suites had. "This is more suited to human size, I believe." He contributed with a measured tone, holding firm to his belief that encouragement might help Eleaniris' situation a modicum.

The agent had been thinking long and hard about the state that the rebellion was in. He knew, in his gut, that it was over. There was no use in fighting anymore, because they were not going to get anywhere. If he was someone else he would have gladly laid down his life for freedom instead of handing it over to slavery, but he was the head of the Secret Service for President Sherman and now one of the last people to keep that poor woman afloat. He had to hang on, if for no one else but that darling that had been undeservingly given an awful fate.

"Excellent." The Decepticon leader did not turn to look at him and Wilson was glad for it. Those rubies could make a man go insane with their intense gaze.

He turned to inspect the walls, raising his eyebrows at the exquisite detail. It was a clever blend of human and alien styles, of curves and sharp edges over delicate inlaid paneling. "Victorian" was what he believed it to be most alike to.

Alien, more modern-styled furniture decorated a few areas. He saw a decent-sized partially roofed balcony to one side, the engraved glass doors open so that their light blue sheer drapes billowed slightly in the wind. Before these doors was a little sitting area, complete with a coffee table, a few chairs, and something resembling a chaise lounge that faced the gorgeous sky beyond. Light was not in short supply, beaming in from tall, elegantly framed windows that lined the wall.

Walking through one of the passages to the side showed him the bedchamber. The bed in the centre might have been one of the most ornate ones Wilson had ever seen. It was a large, Queen-sized circle, set into a small dais that descended downwards instead of up, covered by an overhang supported by four posts in regular intervals of the edge of the dais. Light blue, sheer curtains hung from the roof should she decide to close them. He approached it and kneeled, pushing a hand into the mattress inquisitively and finding it incredibly malleable yet firm. The sheets of the sunken bed were silky to the touch, and he noticed a grey fur blanket folded at the end opposite the plush pile of pillows at the other edge.

"Have the Constructicons incorporated enough human aspects into their design?" The tyrant called from a different room. It was almost amusing to Megatron how much Hook had whined about having to use such nonsensical, "stupid" ideas. Scrapper had agreed, putting up no fight whatsoever. Though Megatron hated that she had been a human, he was not such an ignoramus to believe that she had not liked human styles. Therefore, they were used in moderation.

"I believe so." Megatron smirked to himself at the awe in the tone of her bodyguard, rising from his place inspecting her desk in another room off of the sitting area. A small study of sorts, with lots of empty shelves to house datapads that he was sure she would collect. Maybe a few of those primitive "books."

He didn't understand what his sparkmate saw in the organic, fragile paper. He glanced at the fireplace, noting the elegant, cleanly-cut engraved marble that constituted one of Earth's staple features. It seemed to be electrically powered, and he pressed a button to watch the orange flame spark up from the glass beads set inside. He nodded to himself and turned it off, rejoining the human in the main chamber.

"Do you have any suggestions, fleshling?" Megatron cocked his helm at the agent, realising that the time had come for his course of action. No longer was Wilson surprised at Megatron's request for his opinion; he asked for it all the time, usually about Eleaniris. Something strange was going on with the monster's odd obsession.

"None, except perhaps something to decorate the walls." Wilson gazed over the mentioned structures, noting that the robots must have had to crouch while they were constructing this even if the room had a ceiling twenty feet up. "They look a little bare."

Megatron did not reply but started towards the doors, silently beckoning the agent after him. "Is there nothing else?"

"No." Wilson followed at a wary distance, pursing his lips in thought. "I think she will like this."

"That is the goal." Ben couldn't tell the emotion in the robot's voice, but he knew it wasn't good for Eleaniris.

"Why is that the goal?" He knew that he could ask questions now of the alien, so long as he phrased them correctly. The metal giant had yet to harm him and actually seemed to be trying to get his approval. Odd.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Megatron rumbled, smirking internally at the concern in the guard's voice. He cared very much for his Eleaniris in just the right way. Yes, he would do nicely. The Emperor chuckled, "She is my mate, after all."

"But you didn't have to do this." Wilson followed the robot out of the rooms, letting the door swing shut behind him. "It wasn't required."

Megatron turned to face the agent, his expression showing a rare absence of cold callousness. He was reflective when he said, "No, it wasn't. It is simply my wish to make her… trust me." The Supreme Commander knew that it was unheard of for him to be open, and he wouldn't have been if it wasn't for need to prove to Eleaniris' guard that he did not want to hurt her.

"Why does that matter?" Wilson questioned, fighting to keep himself relaxed before the shrunken Decepticon.

Pleased yet also annoyed at the man's thoroughness, Megatron choice his next words precisely. "I am incredibly fond of my mate and want her to be happy."  _That's why this whole, top floor of the palace has been cleaned out for our own, private quarters. Our sparklings need rooms far enough away that they will not hear her scream my designation in ecstasy._

Wilson wanted to shake his head. This wasn't making sense. Everything he was saying didn't fit any of the actions he had seen from him, but it also sounded sincere. Was this some sort of ploy? And the word choice… you would think that "love" would have made its way into that sentence with all of the emotion he was using, but it didn't.

He paused, finalizing the phrasing of his next words carefully, "Have you told her that you love her?"

Megatron started, fighting to keep a sneer off his face at the insinuation that he had not told Eleaniris that he cared for her. Fragile peace shattered, he stepped back from the human and regain his original size. Peering down at the male in his shadow, he growled, "Of course I have told her of my affection."

"But did you use the word 'love?'" The beast froze, his optics suddenly distant yet also focused on him, making him the centre of their penetrating attention.

Megatron almost snarled at the decisively Autobot word. Sure Eleaniris' former mate had used it, but his processor had been in a haze of hate at the time, focused on handing the organic over to Shockwave and condoning its death. The word had not registered with him. Now it pierced his spark unhindered by fog, its meaning one for weaklings. He felt the urge to sneer with derision at the weak emotion, to bare his fangs at the insinuation that he, Megatron, Supreme Commander of the Decepticons and Emperor of Destruction could feel  _love_.

Wilson unconsciously took a step back as the now-enormous robot stood tall over him, the hot gaze making his palms a little sweaty. "Refrain from dishonoring me so ever again."

That was more like the monster that he, and Eleaniris, knew. Demons could only hide for so long before showing their true colors to the world. Megatron, as superior as he thought he was, was no exception to the rule.

He clenched his jaw and dared to narrow his eyes as he craned his neck to look upwards, only to find himself scooped up effortlessly in an enormous hand. The air rushed around him for a moment and his stomach's contents lifted with the G-force before he stopped in front of the robot's face. "Now, be silent." Even after a month of consulting the robot at odd intervals, the gravelly tone still made him want to shudder involuntarily.

Megatron left both his berthroom and the living area, going to the door and finding the Constructicons waiting for him.

" _The ring."_  He held out his empty servo in a clear gesture for the Hook to give it to him. He nodded once at his leader and unsubspaced a tiny silver box to place in the palm of his leader. The Constructicon beamed at him, grinning expectantly. Even Scrapper had a ghost of a smirk on his lip components.

" _Again, one of my best designs, though I do not craft ornamental decorations. May I ask why this was made for the Queen?"_

" _No."_ He answered Hook flatly, moving his servo so that the human could take it and open it. "Open it, human. Now."

Wilson nodded grimly, knowing what was in the carved box even if he hadn't understood the strange sounds of their language. Gingerly pressing the latch bared the contents to his gaze, and he thought that his stomach might give up his last meal. His hunch was officially confirmed.

An engagement band. The cherry on top of Eleaniris' endless suffering. The smallest diamonds he had ever seen sparkled in their inset settings, winking up at him when they caught the light. With laser etchings and ornate alien symbols, some sharp and others smooth curves, it wasn't ugly in the slightest. The same could not be said for the symbolism of such an object, how it had been pure and happy pre-Invasion and now was uglier than the bloody, rotting ruins of New York City. He wanted nothing more than to crush it, kill it like the being holding him in its open hand.

But he couldn't. He did not possess the power and strength to crush the silver alien metal.

Now that he thought of it, pieces of metal did appear to be missing from the hand holding him. The smallest of fragments were gone from the plating around the joints in his fingers. No. If bullets hadn't been able to so much as  _dent_  this metal, there was no way that  _he_  could crush it.

"Your opinion, human guard?" Wilson jumped and nearly dropped the ring, looking up and over his shoulder to meet the conqueror's blood-red rubies.

"Eleaniris…"  _Will hate what this symbolizes, will hate you for mocking her and belittling her race's ways. Will never forgive you because of what you have done. Will_ _ **die**_   _before she surrenders to you._ "Will love this."

 _But_ _ **never**_   _you._

"Excellent." Megatron chuckled, the force vibrating Wilson slightly. "Good work, Scrapper and Hook. You may choose your," the robot paused, his teeth flashing in a leery smirk, " _reward_."

The two, who Ben now knew as Scrapper and Hook, exchanged dangerously thrilled glances that just barely hid raging arousal. He might have thought it was funny, that human men and these enormous robots shared so much, if the situation had not been so dire. They bowed deeply and barked something in their weird language and walked off, visibly fighting to keep from running.

Megatron laughed deeply, a harsh grating sound tinged with slight static, and followed them at a slower pace. If they had changed Eleaniris and other women into them, could it be that….?

Wilson wished it wasn't so. Wished so hard that all of this was a bad dream and he would wake up in his room in the White House. But it wasn't, and he didn't put it past the cruel bastard holding him to give away sentient, innocent women like goldfish to his men as rewards. Sadist.

"I will take that ring now, fleshling." It wasn't a request, and wordlessly Wilson placed the tiny box in the warlord's hand to promptly see it vanish.

But where was he going now? Megatron hardly ever wanted to see him unless he had a question or two about Eleaniris, and once those had been answered he would be handed off to a guard to be placed back in his cell and promptly "rewarded" for his cooperation. Usually it was a sweet of some sort but on a few occasions he was presented with larger items. Now he had a tablet for reading several books, a nightstand with a lamp, and a cot furnishing his otherwise bare, windowless, square cell.

Something was off and Wilson's hair was starting to stand on end in warning. So deep in thought was he that he jumped when Megatron bent to speak to a slave girl. She bowed her head immediately and made herself small, cowering in the presence of her master.

" _What_  are you doing?" Megatron was angry. Wilson didn't have the slightest idea as to what about, since the twelve-year-old seemed to be doing her duties. Her cart was proof of that.

She curled in on herself, her thin arms trying to cover herself in a futile attempt to feel secure. "F-forgive me, m-master, but I was s-simply-" Megatron cut her off with a snarl.  _What in the hell is going on here?_

"Come, fleshling." Wilson watched in shock as the girl was picked up and cradled in Megatron's empty hand. Megatron was furious but apparently not with the girl. In fact, he lowered his voice to a quieter, more friendly tone.  _Were my orders not followed? Why are there still younglings working the shifts of the adults?_

"Who is your supervisor, female?" Megatron plunked Ben onto his shoulder plating, leaving the agent to scramble for a hold, so that he could tilt the girl's chin up a little. Careful not to pierce the skin, he raised her head to look at him, shocked at the blue-grey eyes that peered back at him. Of its own accord his claw started to stroke her head, mindful of the brittle skull, even feeling the texture of the brown braid that fell down her back.  _Eleanor,_ his processor vented in awe.

"Speak to me." He practically cooed, Wilson raising both eyebrows at the treatment of this "simple slave." Surely the young and old humans all appeared the same to him. Why be careful with one girl, and even treat her so nicely? Nothing was adding up and his actions of conquest and slaughter directly contradicted his actions of reassurance and tenderness.

He didn't hear the next, brief exchange. He was too busy watching Megatron and studying his behaviour from his place on the giant's right shoulder. The robot had brought in his shoulders a little and dimmed his red eyes a modicum, making himself less threatening. The talon tenderly petting the girl paused every so often, as if given her a chance to cringe backwards. She was not being held so close to his face that Megatron was breathing on her, either. Weird. Wilson had noted that he liked doing that to exert power and dominance over those unfortunate enough to be in his clawed grasp.

Megatron made a note for himself to have the slave barracks combed for any more human younglings.  _Speaking of which, I need to review Shockwave's plan._ "Why have you left the slave passages?" Wilson knocked himself out of his musing just in time to hear.

The girl bit her lip, looking down at her whip-scarred hands. "I w-was going to clean the next room on my list when this…" she paused and Megatron waited patiently for the female to continue, suddenly aware that the bodyguard was watching the exchange carefully.  _Watch, human, and observe that I_ _ **am**_   _capable to taking care of any younglings Eleaniris gives me._

"...metal flying lion-bird  _thing_  came and took one of my cleaners. It was gone before I could catch it." Her voice wasn't wavering anymore, but it was still very cautious.

Megatron cocked his helm at the crude description of Borealis. He asked quietly in an effort not to scare the youngling, "How big was this animal?" He noticed that some areas of her neck bore the marks of a whip, some new and an angry red while the others were old and grey, permanent scars. She had been whipped recently, against his direct orders not to punish human younglings in such a manner.

"L-like a horse, master." Megatron stroked her head one last time and placed her back on the floor by her cart, the bending motion making Ben tighten his grip on the plating of the curve on his right shoulder.

"Good girl. Now go back to your quarters." She nodded and bowed deeply, Wilson frowning sadly at the sight of sheer subservient obedience from a child.  _They have done a number on us. All it takes is for her generation to grow up for us to accept our fate as slaves and animals, grovelling at their feet for scraps._

_But why be so kind to her? No threats, no scratches, no tearing limb from limb because that_

_is what he wishes. What_ _ **happened**_   _here?_

" _Soundwave,"_ Megatron commed, awaiting the timely reply that was expected of his communications' officer and

Second-in-command. He was not disappointed, and Soundwave responded immediately.

" _My liege?"_ Soundwave commed, still keeping an optic on the report he had been reading regarding the searches for the traitor to the Queen. The fliers had felt that they had found something.

Megatron picked Wilson up from his shoulder and settled him in his servo again, the man gaping at the gentleness that came even when the behemoth wasn't focused. He was doing the thing where he spoke in his own language even when no one else was around. Ben had surmised that it was some way of telecommunication.

" _Have the supervisors checked for evidence of disobedience. I have apprehended a youngling that was whipped recently, and it displeases me greatly to have future generations broken before they replace the adults."_ Soundwave caught the coldness in his lord's tone, and assured him quickly that it would be done.

Megatron growled when he remembered that the girl resembled Eleanor. If he had found Eleanor herself being whipped in a slave camp instead of on the run from him... He would have shown his troops the true meaning of Emperor of Destruction.

" _Excellent. Dismissed."_ Megatron looked down at the human male, smirking at the thought of who he would soon be and how his Queen would react to knowing that her precious bodyguard was still alive. There was a reason that he had not shown him his future quarters.

The doors to the medbay slid aside, revealing Knockout and Shockwave standing by. Wilson's eyes went wide when he saw the menacing one-eyed robot; his gaze was indeed unsettling. By now he knew who had "mates" and who didn't, and he wondered how his woman dealt with it. Or perhaps she didn't and cowered under that single eye.

Megatron set him gently on one of the medical berths, speaking in their language and then leaving as quickly as he had come in.

" _Prepare him for Cyberformation, but assure that he is not awake for the procedure."_ Knockout and Shockwave dipped their helms in acknowledgement, and Megatron exited. There were reports waiting for him on Galloway, and he needed to visit the library for a more thorough search of human "engagement" methods. He would not make any errors when his femme was brought back to him, safe and sound.

Wilson turned to the two unfamiliar robots and shrunk away, the Marine in him screaming ineffectively to stand his ground and hide his fear. "Come now," the red one smirked, "I have been ordered to keep you off of my dissection table, and we do not want to displease Megatron do we?" He chuckled at his own jibe, clicking his metal tongue. "It is quite the  _painful_  experience."

The black one grabbed him in its singular hand, shoving a previously unseen needle into his neck. Sharp pain bloomed, only to be followed by a spreading numbness emanating from the back of his neck. It relaxed his muscles, making it harder and harder to move until he laid still. paralyzed. His eyes were closing and black shrouded his vision, the last thing he saw being the three red eyes watching him with a cruel, malicious glint.

* * *

"Say, Susan, why are you called out of here all the time?"

Susan knew she had been pushing her luck with the femmes' ignorance of her lessons with Megatron. Frankly, she was astounded that they had not asked about it yet, being the curious women they were. She had expected that they would never cease asking until she either made up a lie (which she definitely preferred not to) or she caved and told them out of frustration.

"It's nothing."  _Megatron's just kidding himself about why Eleaniris left._

Talia cocked her helm at the answer, her faceplates skeptical. Susan knew that the femme was one of the geek types, but that didn't mean that she was stupid. Far from it, actually. "I don't believe that."

"I don't either." Sophia contributed from across the counter, reprogramming the datapad she was working on so that it was ready for use again. "Can you at least tell us where you at least tell us where you go?"

"I can," Susan admitted tersely, "But I do not wish to."

Talia whined, "Come  _on_! First  _Shockwave's_  all secretive with me about his projects, and now you are too? Please?"  _Odd that your monster has a sense of shame for what he's been writing about. I didn't think him the type._

 _Unless he knows it would affect his chances with you, which is incredibly likely by what I saw._ "Fine." Susan was only making herself look all the more guilty by filibustering. She couldn't answer any more of the inevitable questions that this answer would spawn, but at this point what difference did it make?

Clearing the datapad she was working on, she replaced the chip and set it aside in the "complete" pile. She had the easier job with the smaller datapads, since the ones that mechs Megatron's size used took two femmes to reformat; presently Grace and Kimora had the arduous job, but she could tell that the two were still listening.

"Megatron's office in Command." That, evidently, was not what they were expecting at all. Talia let her jaw drop, her optics wide with surprise. Sophia's optic ridges raised, but since she was so refined there was no other sign. Grace dropped her tool, letting it clank on the table and Kimora fumbled with holding the large datapad but did not allow it to fall.

"So you're his mistress?" Sophia said nonchalantly, replacing the datapad. Susan had not thought that Sophia would say something so frank and without an iota of tact. "And we all thought he loved Eleaniris  _so much_. I guess he's just concupiscent."

" **No**! Definitely not." Susan shuddered at the implication of Sophia's remark. "It's not like that at all."

"What are you doing then?" Sophia put away the datapad and fixed her with a dubious and scrutinizing stare, her light green optics hard. "Eleaniris vanishes, and Megatron finds himself without a femme to keep him company. He wants you to tide him over until he gets his sex toy back."

Flabbergasted and insulted, defiled and disgusted, Susan snapped back. "He has made it clear on multiple occasions that that is not why I am there." The others had stopped working now and watched the spectacle as silent bystanders, all of them wearing expressions of shock.

Sophia sat back and crossed one arm over her belly, gesturing with her other servo up in the air, "Why then? What does he  _need_  you for other than  _that_?"

Susan opened her mouth to respond that she was under orders from him not to do so - since when had she given up and rolled over for that fiend? - when the doors opened and all immediately snapped to attention as a certain gryphon flew in, carrying an odd object in her front talons. The femmes skittered to the outside edge of the table, allowing Borealis to land in the centre with her heavy cargo.

"What are you doing Borealis?" Grace, the most familiar with the gryphon, asked gently. The conversation before was now forgotten, but the look in Sophia's optics told Susan that it was not yet over.

The gryphon squawked, gesturing with her beak to the cleaner she had dropped on the table. She was fervently trying to get them to understand something, but she could only answer yes or no questions with a shake or nod of her helm. The femmes started asking questions.

"Is it broken?" Susan asked, only for Borealis to shake her helm.

"Did you need something cleaned?" Sophia raised an optic ridge at Talia's strange query, and the latter shrugged dismissively. Borealis shook her helm, optics urgent.

"Are you trying to tell us something?" Grace asked, and Borealis' optics brightened and her helm bobbed up and down quickly in the affirmative.

It clicked for her then. "Eleaniris? Did she tell you something?" The gryphon flapped her wings and nodded, screeching worriedly.

"What is this about  _my_  Eleaniris?" The femmes reeled around collectively, craning their necks to look up at the towering Megatron. They had been so preoccupied with the gryphon, and he so quiet, that they had not seen him come in. It was not lost on Susan that his red optics had a concerned, upset look in them. If he was someone else she might have felt bad for him losing his mate.

"We're trying to find out." Susan responded in a steady tone, aware that Sophia was watching her like a hawk.

His spark leapt at the thought that Eleaniris might be returned to him soon. He couldn't wait to recharge with her again, his mate in her rightful place: on his chassis, over his spark chamber. Maybe, after they bonded, she would recharge  _in_  his spark chamber. His systems buzzed with reborn lust.  _Frag._ He could not allow himself to become too hasty.

"Borealis," Megatron indicated the cleaner that the gryphon had stolen from the slave girl, "Is this about Eleaniris?"

Borealis nodded, purple optics reflecting his own deep-seated concern, though hers was more chaste.

The tyrant paused, regarding all of them with fiery optics. "She finally told you where she is, didn't she?" Susan knew that the warlord was sharp, that his intelligence was just as scary as his brute strength.  _So why hasn't he figured out why Eleaniris hates him since he's so smart? Does he genuinely not get it or does he not want to see it?_

His Queen's pet affirmed, gesturing with her helm at the cleaner she had dragged in and chirping urgently. "It has something to do with this?" Megatron regarded the small machine, tilting his helm at the gryphon's puzzling thought process. Undoubtedly her logic circuits were shorted out.

"Well, what does this machine do exactly?" Talia crouched and looked it over, forcefully turning it on its wheels. "That might help."

"It looks kind of like a vacuum cleaner." Sophia contributed.

Talia teased the femme's wealthy background with a giggle, "So you've actually  _seen_  one before? Wow!" Sophia rolled her optics but did not reply. Megatron watched the exchange and growled in warning, reminding them to be serious.

"I agree." Kimora said, noting the general shape. It looked like the ones she had seen in automotive shops before the Invasion.

"I don't get it. So she's somewhere that has some attachment to the words 'vacuum cleaner?'" Talia asked dubiously.

"When I visited Britain on one of my Europe trips," Sophia mused - Talia rolled her optics and mouthed  _one of her Europe trips -_ "I remember that the maid used a different term. She called it a Hoover."

Borealis nodded wildly, affirming Sophia's suggestion.

"So something to do with Hoover." Susan looked up at Megatron, knowing from previous experience that he could google things in his head. She supposed that they could too, but how to do it had never been revealed to them. It was probably purposeful, to keep them in the dark and dependent on the Decepticons.

Megatron informed them monotonously, having ruled out the rural towns in Alabama, Missouri, South Dakota and Indiana as being improbable for Starscream's base, "Go back to your work." He turned around swiftly, a growing fire igniting in his groin at the thought of having Eleaniris back again. It would be hard to punish her without scaring her, and he was wondering if that should even happen.

"What about this?" Talia called after his retreating back. "Where are you going?"

The tyrant paused in front of the doors, looking over his shoulder to reply ominously and in a tone that had all of them - even stubborn Susan - shiver as their interface components stirred. "I'm going to collect my Queen." His spark was pulsing happily at the thought of her presence, of her spark being near his again. His systems were on fire with lust and his Energon lines raced as more chemicals were released into them. The chemicals were similar to those in the lines of a presently battling mech, but they were different.

The specific variety his frame had started to secrete into his fuel lines was associated with a mate, with a mech challenged for his femme. The only thing more  _delicious_  than the hunt was the inevitable triumphant end. This whole affair had been a battle for the ex-gladiator and at last he knew he was about to win.

Susan almost didn't hear the mech respond as a voice echoed in her helm, streaming over her comm. link, " _Susan, it's Eleaniris. What's been happening there?"_

* * *

Elsewhere, a different comm. link startled the Autobot leader out of his musings. It was Mirage, finally bearing good news for the battered Prime and his team. "We're in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sidenote: "Hoover" is a real slang term, used as a synonym for vacuum cleaner. Here you guys go! Also, I'd appreciate it if my awesome reviewers could tell me if this story is having any sort of emotional impact on them whatsoever. Thanks!


	60. The Descent of Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Warning for disturbing themes and language.

As promised, later Skywarp took her outside. The late morning light directly contrasted her depressed and anxious mood. It would not be long before Megatron would find her, she was sure, though the last time she had checked with Borealis (only an hour or two prior) the gryphon was still thinking up ideas of how to convey the message.

Eleaniris bit her lip and shuttered her optics in an effort to stifle the sob clawing its way up her throat. She could feel herself fraying and coming apart at the seams, the stress of her new life catching up to her yet again. She usually found solace at times like this in her memories, in her "happy place," but she had worn them out so much that there was nothing left to be gained from them; it was like trying to pull water from a well that had run dry.

Skywarp, for all of his actions during the Invasion, hadn't done anything cruel to her thus far. He hadn't made another move on her since that first attempt with Starscream and had defended her when he could from groping and lusting mechs. This simple fact made her more at ease with him, and she had wondered if he was changing.

As if.

He grinned down at her and she weakly smiled back. "Is little Squeaker ready for a bath?" he cooed lightly, oblivious to her internal torment.

"Yes," she murmured, turning her gaze to the frigid-looking water. She still had to think up a way to be alone for a few minutes. "But what about a game?"

"Playful little Eleaniris?" He chuckled and his red optics displayed amusement, "I haven't seen that Squeaker in a long while."

Hoping to encourage him, she grinned bashfully and made a show of turning her optics to the rocky ground far below his open palm. Skywarp nuzzled the top of her helm gently, reminding her of Starscream's tiara. The action no longer disgusted her - she had had far worse things done to her - though it did make whatever it was in her chest twist painfully. "What is this game?"

"It's called hide-and-seek." Eleaniris smiled, "One of us hides and the other has to find them."

"Sounds interesting." He had tilted his head while he was listening to her, and he cocked it to the other side as he responded. "Do you want to hide first, little Squeaker?"

Eleaniris shook her helm, musing aloud "You should hide first. I'll count to one hundred under the water, so I don't hear you move around, and then I'll come up and look for you." She smiled and made her optics big, trying to imitate the puppy look that Skywarp always fell for.  _Good plan,_

It worked and he grinned widely, his optics soft as he stroked her back once. It was obvious that he had learned much in the time that she had spent with him, as he was now almost as gentle as Megatron was with her.  _What am I going to do? Hope that he doesn't punish me or someone else when I return?_

_At least Wilson and Simmons are already dead._

Skywarp set her down, agreeing to her proposal. "Now go under," he gestured fondly, smiling as he prodded her forward with a finger. Sometimes she almost forgot that he had killed eight million people in a matter of hours; probably because he didn't rub it in all the time.

Megatron, however, managed to shove her face in it every day that she was with him. She fought the urge to sneer with derision though her cyberformed heart felt lighter at the thought of his name.

She obeyed and dropped her cloak on the pebble-covered bank, walking into the cold water and allowing it to chill her bare metal. As much as she was loathe to admit it, she was used to being "naked" by now. A month or so without clothing did that to you.

Eleaniris covered her optics as her helm went under, counting mentally to 100 and probably skipping over a few numbers as her "heart" hammered in anticipation of what Susan had to tell her. It wasn't good, that much she was sure of. How bad it was was the real question.  _What could he_ _ **possibly**_   _do that would end up being_ _ **worse**_ _?_

When she emerged from the dark water Eleaniris quickly scanned her surroundings for evidence of Skywarp. He was lacking in the brains department, but at least he knew how to hide. That was her thought, at least, until her audios picked up the sound of bubbles popping at the surface of the river a little ways down.  _The oaf_ , she thought with a smile and a chuckle. He wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't worried about his ulterior motives all the time.

Satisfied in the knowledge that she could stroll around and speak to Susan while pretending to look for a "hidden" Skywarp, she trekked up the rocky slope and found her way onto the top of the dam's walkway. Her servos tingling with nervousness and her vents short and choppy, Eleaniris commed Susan.

The comm. link took only a few seconds to open, but to her it seemed like an eternity until the connection was made. She "breathed" deeply in a futile attempt to calm her nerves before speaking, " _Susan, it's Eleaniris. What's been happening there?"_

After a moment or two of silence in which she stopped ventilating, Susan answered in a hushed voice, " _Eleaniris? You don't know what's going on here."_ The woman on the other end watched the doors to the library shut.

" _Borealis keeps telling me that something is wrong and you need to tell me about it."_ Eleaniris feigned a glance around her surroundings, just in case Skywarp was watching.

" _I was in Megatron's office in Command,"_ Susan decided to omit mention of the paintings, for there was nothing that information could bring to Eleaniris that would be beneficial to the woman's psyche. " _And…"_ The others had gathered around her, giving her curious looks, and she tried to shoo them away to no avail.

Eleaniris interrupted the pause before she could continue to ask accusatorily, " _Why were you in his office? What did he do to you?" Please, Lord, don't let him be using her._

" _He's talked himself into believing that he scared you away, Eleaniris."_ Susan reassured quickly, her optics threatening to well up at the thought of what she was going to reveal. Eleaniris merely rolled her optics though she felt touched,  _Absence makes the heart grow fonder_. Susan rerouted the conversation, unsure of the time either of them had, " _But that's not the point."_

" _While I was there, I saw a datapad. It was a plan for the kids, Eleaniris."_ Susan covered her mouth with a hand as her optics narrowed and brimmed with tears. Eleaniris could hear the weeping in the stylist's voice as she said, " _It's so hard for me to say. I can't believe his cruelty."_ The other femmes hadn't returned to their work and crept closer to Susan, trying to console her with a touch to the shoulder or a holding of a servo. It didn't work and Susan shrugged them off. Still they listened, having only heard Susan tell of how  _evil_  the plan was but not what it actually said.

" _I-I can't, Eleaniris."_

Eleaniris, never having heard the motherly woman so upset, felt a sinking feeling in her gut and a tightness in her chest. " _What happened to have you so upset?"_ She had always wished that she could have the ability to empathize and reassure others, but that skill was never her strong suit.

" _Eleaniris,"_ Susan didn't bother with trying to wipe her tears away, looking down at her servos to avoid the optics of those in front of her - especially Talia, whose mate had been one of the masterminds. " _He… he…."_

" _What is it Susan?"_ Eleaniris forgot about pretending to look for Skywarp and merely kept her gaze focused on the road in front of her.

" _He wants to start a breeding programme. He's going to,"_ Susan gave a particularly loud sob and said quickly, " _s-select the genes he wants and_ _ **b-breed**_   _the adults for them."_ The femmes gasped, but Susan paid no mind as she went on, " _he's going to_ _ **k-kill**_   _the ones that aren't deemed 'fit' by their standards."_

" _Every slave camp is going to have a God-damn_ _ **puppy mill,**_   _Eleaniris. Every one will have humans that are forced to have relations to survive, and as soon as the babies are born they are_ _ **taken**_   _away to another facility."_

Eleaniris stopped walking and world seemed to spin, her servos trembling with the force of her emotion. The heart in her chassis twisted painfully and clear coolant trails started to fall out of her optics. She had asked him to do something about the kids, had begged him to save them, and this is what he did?

He wanted to  _breed_  her people like  _animals_  and take the babies away from their mothers as soon as they were born? " _They will never know their parents, Eleaniris. All they will know is what these bastards teach them."_

" _Unconditional servitude."_

" _He wrote this?"_ Eleaniris whispered, not quite believing how he had managed to be  _that_  terrible and  _that_  cruel. Evil had no rock-bottom, she decided. " _You actually_ _ **saw**_   _this order?"_

" _I did, Eleaniris. He and,"_ Susan bit her lip, worried about Talia's reaction. A glimpse of the femme's faceplates had said that she was already crying about the kids, and Susan remembered  _She wanted to be a kindergarten teacher._

" _and Shockwave planned this."_ Talia gasped and all of their optics, with the exception of Susan's, swiveled to fixate on her. The femme's lip trembled and she covered her faceplates in shame. She started speaking and babbling but all the others could make out was  _Why?_ Grace approached her first and hugged her around the shoulders, Talia responding by burying her face into the chest of the taller stylist.

" _The kids that aren't fit, well… We all know that the Decepticons tolerate no runts in their litters."_ Susan shook her helm. It was a hard pill to swallow, and the images of babies being drowned in buckets like unwanted puppies made her heart stop its pulsing. The thoughts of broken necks and cracked skulls, piles of the bodies of children that never had a chance, made her next request harder and her glossa seemed to stick in her throat. It was all she could do to get the words out, past her paralysed tongue as she asked,

" _I know that you hated him already, that you were tortured when you were with him, but we need you to come back madame. We need you here."_

Eleaniris buried her face in her servos in her overwhelming sorrow, the heat of the sun above her helm and the asphalt underneath her pedes making the scene all the more emotional for her while the world spun around her and her throat constricted painfully. " _I have no choice, do I?"_

" _He's coming to get you right now. Borealis figured out how to tell him. We witnessed it."_ Susan said tearfully, remembering the silent yet somber-opticed gryphon and staring at her as if to say  _Tell him nothing about this conversation._

Her heart screamed with nonsensical joy and logical sadness, the seams that held her sanity together tearing so harshly that she wondered if she heard a rip. She was weeping with the force of one who was vomiting, but only barely managing to quiet her cries lest Skywarp hear them. This monster that deigned to conquer and enslave humanity was coming to  _save_  the very leader of those people.

How  _fucking_ ironic.

The slashed and scorched fabric of her mind and heart stretched even more with her pain, trying to numb her so as to save her final shreds of sanity.  _You can do this, come on,_ her tattered psyche tried to support. However, it was like a broken, splintered crutch and scarcely pulled up her tormented soul.

Eleaniris wiped away the spilled coolant, taking a stuttering vent in an effort to calm herself. She probably didn't have a day until he came to fetch his sex slave, and so she had to save it for him. If Thundercracker was right about him - a  _very_  big "if" - and Megatron didn't want her as a toy, maybe crying enough would get him to listen to her and force him to stop this madness.

" _What if he doesn't listen to me?"_ As much as she hated to leave the comm., Skywarp was probably wondering what she was doing if he could see her. She knew that she had to hurry.

Susan sighed, hearing Talia's loud wailing yet avoiding processing it. " _I've been teaching him how to avoid scaring you. If you want to see him squirm, all you need to do is cry when you see him and stumble away. If you want him to feel suffering, exaggerate being scared."_

Eleaniris had to wonder how he still couldn't grasp that, even after her angry comm. with him. She wasn't afraid of him hurting her, since he had proven on the vast majority of occasions that he was capable of taking care of her and not crushing, dismembering, or stepping on her. At the least his intentions were what made her wary, and at the most his horrific actions and cruel orders during and since the Invasion...

" _He doesn't know that I ran away because I_ _ **hate**_   _him?"_ Eleaniris remembered the last thing she had said to him.  _Calling him a terrorist didn't convey that message? Even outright saying that made no sense to him?_

" _No. He doesn't."_

Those words said everything. Eleaniris sighed, thanking the stylist that had become so much more to her than an employee since the Invasion. It was probably the reason why Susan and Grace had dropped the whole "madame" business and called her by her name; they were friends now, comrades from a fallen country and soldiers of a losing cause.

" _Thank you for telling me this Susan, as much as it pains the both of us."_ Eleaniris ended the comm, turning around to go back and find Skywarp while trying to stitch together as much of her mental fabric as she could. " _Hold on and goodbye."_

* * *

The Decepticon ship was not a small one nor was it terribly large for the Prime and his battered team. Mirage had been injured by a few shots that had pierced his armor, but otherwise he was fine. Once Ratchet had patched him up and the others had replenished their empty tanks on the ship's store of Energon, the remaining Autobots joined in the ship's command deck to strategize.

For this reason, Mudflap and Skids were to stand on opposite sides of the room. Ratchet had suggested to his leader that they not be present at all, but Optimus insisted that they have knowledge of what was about to transpire.

Turning to Mirage, Optimus first asked in tired Cybertronian " _Do we know the language that was used in the broadcast? Did the Decepticons on this ship mention the name of any, or perhaps was there a record in the ship's database?"_

Mirage affirmed in the negative. " _There was no mention in the short time I was aboard before revealing my presence. Dialogue was in Cybertronian. However, I did not have the chance to search the database if this ship is equipped with one, Optimus."_

If they were Decepticons, Optimus would have ordered that the processors of the ship's offlined crew be combed through for such information. But, as they were Autobots, no such breach would be made.

The Autobot leader vented heavily and nodded, accepting the news. " _What about the Decepticon defenses around the third planet?"_ The last Prime had gotten that far with finding the precise location of the coordinates he had found imbedded in the mysterious transmission.

Ironhide stepped up, gruffly reporting, " _Thicker than old Energon, Optimus. Definitely too heavy to manage right now, with our numbers."_

Optimus didn't understand how the Decepticons could have multiplied so quickly. He knew that there were not many left when he had last fought Megatron, unless…

His Energon ran cold,  _he has the Allspark._ The Prime didn't know what it was capable of on an alien world with unknown technology. Regardless he knew that the Allspark, once launched into space, would seek a planet with a Sun Harvester. It was possible that they were nearing one such planet now.

" _What do we do then?"_ Ratchet asked his leader, all of the blue optics of the group before the Prime looking to him for guidance.

" _We wait for some sort of clearance."_ Optimus shook his helm, looking at the bridge's large display of the surrounding space. Rocks and debris drifted past, components of this system's asteroid belt. " _Make the Energon last as long as we can."_

* * *

The small human female stared at the footage with wet, organic eyes. She had watched the President bury her face into her hands and cry her heart out, weeping for the information that had just been brought to the unfortunate leader.

The femme stood over her, but did watch the video. She was observing the sniffing female with something akin to respectful sorrow. She could tell what the woman was thinking, and tried to reassure. "She is not unfortunate."

"How could you  _say_  that? Have you not been  _watching_  what has happened to her?" The woman didn't look up, but wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. The tone was angry, offended, and filled to the brim with mourning.

"I have," the much taller femme responded, "but I can tell you that she is not unfortunate."

After a brief, tense pause she added predictively, "Not yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story only gets darker. Sorry folks, but this one I had planned for a long time. And who are these people at the end?
> 
> Check out my side story, Dying of the Light, which follows how Decepticons have been picking their mates!


	61. The Triad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.
> 
> Some long-delayed time measurements:  
> Cycle = ~1 hour and 15 minutes (IDW)  
> Solar cycle = ~1 day (animated)  
> Nanoklik = ~1 second (animated)

 

The starting of the Cyberformation process was easy enough for the medic; he had, after all, cyberformed another human per Lord Megatron's request a solar cycle or so ago. Knockout had just barely finished pulling the changed "artist" out of the tube and placing him somewhere else when the Emperor had strode in with yet another  _patient_.

Since the human bodyguard had been set into the machine, Knockout informed Shockwave - the mech gave him the creeps, with that single optic of his - that he was no longer needed and the scientist left, providing the medic with a medbay to himself. Thanking Primus that he was no longer venting down his neck armor, Knockout pulled out the data pad from the library and began to look it over, leaning against one of the tables in the Cyberformation room.

Translation was the hard part and he had been striving to complete converting the Ancient Cybertronian symbols to their modern equivalents, almost halfway when the first human had been brought in - something about Megatron finding him useful for renditions of the Queen, which Knockout had seen once in his command office - and Shockwave and showed him how to use the machine. Now was the only chance he had had to finally finish the translation and read what he had found. Although Megatron had made explicitly clear - with cringe-worthy threats to his armour - that he was not to share that Eleaniris was his sparkmate, it did nothing to kill his private curiousity.

When he found himself at the bottom of the document, after many cycles of hard work, Knockout replaced the last symbols of the ancient text with great triumph. Now completed, he would start looking over the modern translation. Scanning quickly over the displayed characters, he found what he needed.

_The three levels of blessing upon two Sparks by Primus himself: the Conjunx, the Endura, and the Conjunx Endura, the rarest of the triad._

Knockout raised an optic ridge, perplexed. Never before had he heard of classifications of sparkmates - he had assumed that a sparkmate was a sparkmate. Curious, he decided to read the one mentioned last; surely Lord Megatron would have received the highest, most rare form of bond. He expected nothing less from the powerful tyrant gladiator who levelled planets by his iron decree. Knockout scrolled downwards and found the section about those of the Conjunx Endura bond.

_The Conjunx Endura, the highest blessing upon the pair, is the rarest of them all. Though one may have multiple Conjunxes or Endurae in one's lifetime, there is only one Conjunx Endura. The Destined Powerful will experience a pull towards one another from the Spark, though their helms deem it Wrong._

_Odd._ Knockout thought. He had perceived (bonded) sparkmates to be the inseparable, amorous couple whose company always told to "find a berth." If this  _Conjunx Endura_  bond was the "highest blessing," wouldn't they sparkbond upon first sight of each other?

And what was this about their helms "deeming it wrong?" "Wrong" as in socially inappropriate? "Wrong" as in an incorrect match? This was most interesting indeed. From what he had gathered about his lord's relationship with his supposed sparkmate, it wasn't going well at all. Could it be...?

_The Sparks are opposites yet contain similarity, for it is the wish of Primus for the numerous resultant Spark-lings to experience love from their Creators in a unit._

_How interesting._ He would bring this bit about many sparklings to the attention of his lord later. And spark-lings as two words… that written form was one he had never seen used. It was an ancient, long forgotten spelling, indicating the age of the file he was reading.

_Upon and after the formation of the hallowed Spark-Bond, the pair may experience and continue to experience-_

" _Knockout!"_ Lord Megatron's impatient comm. made Knockout almost drop his datapad in surprise. Hurriedly he set it down and answered the call from his Emperor.

" _My liege?"_ Knockout had to wonder,  _What happened_ _ **now**_ _?_

" _Review the Empress' medical records."_ Megatron was not angry, not yet, which came as a relief to the Aston Martin. " _Now!"_

" _A-as you command, my Lord."_ Knockout stammered and felt the urge to bow, even though he was not in the presence of the Emperor himself; the will of his lord was indeed compelling. Once the comm. link had ended, Knockout reluctantly set down the datapad to carry out his orders. Perhaps later he would get back to it and that sweet little femme in the data library.

* * *

As soon as he had heard the news of Eleaniris' whereabouts, Megatron had forgotten all about the research on human "engagement" and went to schedule a rendezvous with one of the patrolling ships. Normally, as a display of power and show of his position, he would have waited for the  _ship_  to come to  _him_  instead of the other way around; however, he was not about to let his precious mate stay in the wretched clutches of Starscream a nanoklik longer than was possible.

He only took a detour to collect his fusion cannon from his suites (for obvious reasons) and to go through Command to retrieve the datapad on this Galloway - once he distracted himself from his arousal and need for Eleaniris, he could properly plan her rescue. A processor hazed by lust would not be an efficient one.

Megatron had forgotten until he was already at the chosen coordinates that he had yet to read over Shockwave's plan. He never took so long to read over ordered plans, and that fact spoke to how preoccupied he was with Eleaniris, the captured humans, and other factors of his fledgling Empire. He would set aside time to approve or decline it once his Empress was back, recharging soundly in his palace as she should be.

Thoughts of her continued to stream through his processor as he boarded the ship amidst cries of " _All hail Megatron!"_  and had greeted its Captain. He devoted zero processor space to the admiration-soaked words of the officer - not even catching his designation - and mulled over punishment for her.

He knew that his mechs would expect to see some sign of her having been punished, but was that a possible route for him to take with her? Megatron had already settled on her fear as the reason for her exodus from his palace, and wouldn't a harsh punishment - as he was prone to dealing - perhaps offline her from the stress? He certainly didn't want that. What he wanted was for her to learn to trust him, closely followed by her submission to him in the berth.

The decision did not take long, as his spark had decided long ago whose side it would take. Eleaniris would meet no punishment by his servo, but he would ask that she limp or wince or something of the sort while she was in view of his officers.

As she would be from now onwards. He would keep her with him as often as possible, for though she would be paralyzed with fear for a little while, Eleaniris would overcome it and learn to trust that he (nor anyone else) wouldn't hurt her. Additionally, it would ensure that no more escapes were made.

He would not participate in this charade of hers ever again, if he would have to chain her to him. Not that he would prefer leashing her like a tamed turbo fox, like an inferior animal, but if that was what it took to show her his -  _Primus I've gone soft -_ gentleness…

Mere Earth weeks ago, in an attempt to distract himself from Eleaniris, he had been planning his scheme for the infiltration of planets he wished to conquer - his "Infiltration Protocol" - and had authorized the conversion of some of his most promising destructive warriors into the dreaded "Phase Sixers." They were designed to carry out the sixth and last phase of the Decepticon takeover: complete annihilation. He had received word from Shockwave that the three were ready for combat should he decide to use them, and Megatron had been considering trying one out in this attempt, but should they find Eleaniris before he did there was no guarantee that Eleaniris would not be killed. She was just so small, and at the very least they would frighten her terribly.

No, Phase Sixers could not be used. Like the D.J.D. he would keep them a secret from his lovely, innocent Queen. There was no need for her to see the dirty underbelly of the Decepticon faction, and it would only terrify her more than she was already.

Speaking of innocence, he dearly hoped that his little Empress still had hers. However, he did know from human culture prior to his subjugation that it was, unfortunately, considered an outdated practice by many to keep it. Though the odds told him that it was likely she did not have it, his engines still revved at the thought of taking it himself from her.

Sensing that his libido was quickly escalating along with a sudden tightness in his codpiece, Megatron moved on to the report datapad given to him by Dreadwing. It had been vorns upon vorns since he had had to self-service, and he wasn't going to lose control of himself now.

He spent very little time on the reports of the traitorous advisor; only long enough to know that Dreadwing's teams had seen some activity in the human city of Pittsburg and they were awaiting orders from him. Knowing that he wished to be the one to capture the slug, he delayed ordering them. It could wait until tomorrow, and he had not missed how Eleaniris' bodyguard and former military members had snarled at the mention of the man.

Yes, he would catch Galloway and have  _it_  brought back - he was not about to allow  _it_ in his cockpit, which Eleanor had been the sole human to occupy. The others could have their revenge as well, but Megatron would be sure that he got the biggest slice. Rumble and Frenzy had been more destructive lately, and when he and the vengeful humans were done the twins could finish off what was left.

Megatron gathered himself and initiated the comm. link with the captains he would require for this mission. A plan had started to form in his experienced mind, one that would have Eleaniris safe and back in his quarters by nightfall.

As the links were made, Megatron made a quick comm. to Knockout regarding her medical records. If she was hurt, he needed that infuriating yet merit-holding medic to be able to treat her on the spot without having to constantly refer to her files for prior treatments. When one comm. link was over, the other promptly began. He did so appreciate timeliness and efficiency.

The warlord was immensely satisfied in the knowledge that he was doing one of the things he did best as he strategized and schemed. If only courting Eleaniris was as easy as choosing ship placement and landing parties; yet he knew that, after a period of time, he would inevitably succeed in that endeavour as well.

After all the humans did say that the wooing of a female was a battlefield, and who knew those better than the Decepticon Supreme Commander and Emperor himself?

* * *

It did not take long for the Decepticon medic to finish leafing through Eleaniris' medical records. They were nothing like a Cybertronian's, as she had only lived several decades and they millions of Earth years. Hence they were short and he was done with them rather quickly, notes for himself and all.

He assumed that the reason for Lord Megatron's comm. was Eleaniris' fertility, and making sure to memorize the few details on her reproductive health made him think of Sophia and her own curves. A pleased rumble came from his vocaliser at the thought of having those hips in his servos.

Knockout left after looking over his notes and reassuring himself of their completeness. Megatron was not one to tolerate sub-par work in any given situation, and the mech had sounded  _very_  possessive of his Queen. Surely his work had to be immaculate to avoid his liege's wrath, and therefore he took his time to check himself.

The walk to the library was not a long one, but it passed slowly for him. He had held off on seeing sweet Sophia, for he didn't want to scare her off. Humans were incredibly skittish and easily became afraid; this was especially true of the females. The femme had been hard enough to speak to in the first place.

It would be a shame to lose something so like him.

He realized with a sinking spark that he had forgotten about gifts. He recalled Sophia stating Scavenger's offer: " _He said he was going to provide me with luxury; jewels, delicate armor, all the like."_  Knockout frowned. Losing her to that fool would be a shame indeed.

No, not a shame. A downright  _insult_  to his mechly pride.

When he came to the pair of double doors, he quickly unsubspaced a mirror and checked himself over for scratches, scuffs and imperfections. He knew that he needed to atone for his lack of foresight in one way or another, and he was determined to sweep the "Presentation" category for this femme - something a filthy Constructicon could  _never_  do.

Having finished their work with the datapads, most of the femmes were in the back while Talia remained in the large part of the library, available to anyone who came in. She was still recovering from the revelation that Shockwave, the mech that had been courting her in his subtle way for so long, had actually proposed for humanity to be bred like animals. The fact that he had been trying to conceal it from her - she had no doubt that that was the source of his secrecy as of late - only made things worse.

Up to this point she had been pretending, trying to make the most of a bad situation by attempting to forget what his race had done to hers. She had overlooked cruel and unethical experimentation of human beings and their use as practical lab rats, even the fact that  _he_  had been the one to cyberform her, but this was simply too far. There was no way on Earth that she could whitewash his new plan, that she could justify it in her own mind.

There was no possible, conceivable justification for what he had done. She had overheard later, after the comm. had ended, Susan telling Grace that Soundwave had actually refused Megatron's "request" to participate in the project. At least she was happy, but Talia knew what she had to do.

Kimora had told them all about the Decepticon Challenges in which a mech would fight another for the other's mate. And seeing as how she had been a gift to Shockwave for his work on the Cyberformation process, it seemed as though getting another mech to duel and kill Shockwave would be the only way for her to be rid of him. Until that happened, however, she resolved that she would refuse to talk to him.

She would miss Driller though. Who knew that the  _real_  monster was the  _master_  of the so-called "monster?" Talia wondered if the huge worm would accept a new master of the mech that "won" her.

As soon as she heard the doors swoosh open and footsteps enter the library, Talia promptly turned her back to the entrance. If it was who she thought it was, she would make her displeasure clear right now.

When the mech had gotten close enough, she snarled angrily "I  **don't**  want to speak to you, so get out  _right_   _ **now**_."

A dark chuckle made her optics narrow in heightened fury, but before she could respond someone else did. Someone that was definitely  _not_  Shockwave.  _Wait, Shockwave doesn't_ _ **chuckle**_ _._

"A bit harsh for your medic, isn't that?" Sultry as ever.

Talia uncrossed her arms and wheeled about, her optics brightening and widening. "K-Knockout?" She also had been considered by him before she had told him to back off and that she was claimed; the memory was not a pleasant one.

"Indeed." He gestured to himself proudly, grinning. "Mad at Shockwave now are we?"

" _Indeed_." She mocked with a sneer. "What do  _you_  want?"

He had the nerve to chuckle again, "Rude, but I will not send in a complaint to the Customer Service Department." Talia didn't dignify his remark with a response, and Knockout reset his vocaliser before continuing.

"Tell me where my little Sophia is." Talia pursed her lips but did as she was told.

"Hey Sophia!" She turned on the countertop of the front desk to shout behind her, into the door of the back room, "Lover boy is here to see ya!"

Sophia sighed, feeling the expectant gaze of the rest of them upon her. His voice was recognizable anywhere, but she had been hoping that he would not call for her. It was not meant to be, she supposed.

She had been thinking about him lately, wondering how long she could actually distance herself from him. Everything with these robots was so inevitable; like some of the spoiled children she had been friends with growing up, when the Decepticons wanted something they got it eventually. Decepticons didn't give up on pursuits - in fact, the prospect of a hunt seemed to  _draw_  them  _in_.

Powerlessness consumed her and she got a shallow, brief, horrifyingly depressing glimpse into the world of Eleaniris.  _But_ , at the very, very,  _very_  least, Knockout was not Megatron.  **That**  was a plus.

 _Isn't he a doctor?_ , part of her tried to console,  _And isn't the type Father and Mother wanted you to marry?_

 _Also, since when were you going to fall in love and then get married?_ Sophia had to admit to this point, though she greatly where her own mind was taking her with this.  _You know that they were just waiting for the man with the right bank account to come along so they can continue their royal, Hamptons family._

 _Besides, you know in your trips to India that people there marry and then fall in love. Maybe you could try the same._ Though she hated giving the spoiled, stories-high robot his way, this seemed to be her only route to happiness. He would end up with her someway or other, and it was give in and buy into the whole "one big, happy family" crap or fight him and end up like the President - depressed, stressed, anguished and destabilized.

Poor woman.

She'd take the first option.

And so, with a heavy heart, Sophia walked out of the back room and into the front, climbing up the small stairway to reach the top of the front desk. Knockout purred and she shifted her weight anxiously, head bowed and not meeting his optics, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Hello," he cooed with his usual sticky sweetness, and a slight groan of metal brought him down so that he was looking up at her optics, even if the incline was only slight. A gentle claw forced her chin up carefully, red optics glowing softly at her as he crooned.

"I never got your name," she murmured, gingerly dislodging her chin from the point of his lethal talon and looking to the side.

"Knockout, sweetspark." He purred, again forcing her to look at him. Talia had backed away and the others - save for Susan - were watching from around the corner of the doorway of the back room. "Have you thought about me?"

She felt the urge to sob at his cockiness, but she again reminded herself of her "choice."

"Yes."

He brought his face closer to where she could feel a slight, steady puff of exhaust. Knockout tilted his helm at her, murmuring though his voice was still a little loud, "Do you like what you see, precious Sophia?"

It was inevitable. She had to make a move at some point, lest he make one for her that she did not like. She swallowed and prepared herself.

Sophia forced a chuckle and walked up to him, his claw falling away of its own accord to allow for her movement, "I'm more of a Ferrari girl myself, but I guess you're  _acceptable_."

Any other time he would have snarled at the insult to his alternate mode. How  _dare_ this femme jab at  _him_? He could crush her in his fist if he wanted to, dissect her if he pleased, tear her apart if he desired; she was nothing.

But the little, shy,  _adorable_ smirk on her faceplates changed his mood. She was actually being  _friendly_ enough to  _joke_  with him! Knockout didn't understand what he had done to earn her trust so easily, but it thrilled him. Those painfully awkward conversations with Soundwave were paying off for him!

He played right back, his tone light as he attempted to stay as still as possible as the femme placed a hesitant servo on his cheek rim. "A mech of my standing can easily become a Ferrari for his little mate." He couldn't resist leaning into the tiny servo on his faceplate, showing her that he approved of her gesture.

Inside she felt like shouting, but she giggled and flirted right back, gently petting him, "My father had an Aston Martin. You're fine." Knockout purred at her revealed approval, vibrating her servo.

"Better than Scavenger?" He was an egoist if nothing else, and he wanted to hear her praise his superiority.

Sophia nearly faltered, having to think for a moment back to her lie. "Yes," was her nonchalant answer.

His optics flashed and he slowly moved a servo behind her and reluctantly moved his face away - there would be more time for touching later. He did not want to make all of this progress for it to be lost because of a wrong move. Slow movements would do for the time being, but he was a freak of speed. Eventually he would do as he wished with his prize.

Sophia saw it coming out of the corner of her eye, the way the enormous hand moved like a snake to press against the back of her knees. He did not hesitate, true to Decepticon nature, and scooped her right into his palm to surround her in a fist.

She smacked a palm against the topmost finger, wriggling for all she was worth and allowing her formerly passive demeanor to shatter. "What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely oblivious as a metal eyebrow furrowed at her struggling.

"Don't hold me like this. Please." He continued to gaze blankly at her and, pressured into clarifying, she elaborated, "I feel like a… a…  _toy_."

"Ahhh." The Aston Martin nodded his understanding and placed her on his shoulder, holding her secure until she got a secure grip on the armor there. "How's that, little Sophia?" He hoped that he had not ruined anything.

His brief internal panic was subdued with a meek "Thank you," his femme gazing back at the girls. Sophia watched as they still didn't break their silence as the red robot left with her, and she eventually turned away from them when Knockout reached the doors.

"Where are we going?" She wasn't sure how he would respond to questioning yet. Some Decepticons didn't like having their motives questioned at all and went by the belief that "femmes should be seen, not heard." _._

"My medbay, Sophia." He said proudly and all her numbed, shocked processor could come up with was  _Oh. So he is a doctor._

Who would have thought that giving herself away would have been so easy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not come up with the concept of Megatron's Infiltration Protocol, and neither did I coin the phrase "Conjunx Endura" though I did reinvent it for the use of this story. The transformers wiki has a goldmine of information on both of these if you are not familiar with IDW's G1 continuity.


	62. The Glass Shatters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Death, mentions of abuse, lust, etc.

" _Optimus,"_ Ratchet came onto the bridge, where the last Prime had been planning and monitoring the third planet. Said Prime turned to look at his medic, greeting him with a nod.

" _What have you found?"_

Ratchet gestured to the datapad in his servo, " _I believe I have found the correct language pack."_ Curious yet also dreading the content of the message he had received, Optimus stepped closer to see the name. He could download it himself once he knew that.

" _Thank you, Ratchet."_

Once it had taken a place in his processor, he returned to the carefully guarded broadcast file. It now made perfect sense, the words becoming clear and assuming their true meaning in his mind. The Prime's expression grew more grave as the message went on, the sounds of the strange creatures clearly transmitting terror and abject hopelessness.

It recounted a horrible, brutal invasion of Earth - as they called their planet - where they were poorly equipped as many species were to combat the Decepticons. Enslavement had followed and all of their leaders were hunted down and killed like animals, all except for one.

The last remaining one had been captured, "Cyberformed" and crowned Megatron's Queen against her will. She fought him valiantly, but the Decepticon tyrant was having none of that from the sound of things. The beings described Megatron as being "huge" in comparison to themselves, and Optimus' spark twisted in disgust and sympathy for the reluctant, evidently tiny Queen.

The Decepticons had sunk to a new low if this was what they were doing - taking a helpless species as mates. Optimus predicted that, if Megatron had taken and changed one into a mate, the others would follow after their leader in dragging these aliens unwillingly to their berths.

 _Humans,_ he corrected,  _they called themselves humans._

Quickly switching back to Cybertronian he informed Ratchet in a dark tone, " _We must make haste."_

* * *

"The time approaches." The femme looked at the small group of humans before her, giving clear instructions. "I have told you what may happen when the inevitable comes and preparations can be made accordingly."

"I thought we already prepared for what is about to transpire." The grey-eyed woman that had been crying about Eleaniris before asked, perplexed. "Why are you telling us this  _again_?"

"I speak of a different event." The femme turned to the projected images that surrounded her workspace. "It will decide the fate of many, though the destiny only affects two."

"Oh." The woman's jaw clenched. She had heard this prediction before, and it was hardly one she liked, but by all accounts it was the only inevitability. "But how can it decide the fate of many if it only involves two? That doesn't make sense."

The femme smiled sadly, "As a wise human once said, 'Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.'"

The woman nodded but did not reply. It unsettled her deeply that she must wait to see what fate would decide. The femme turned to the rest and they nodded, understanding more or less what they could do. She gestured to an African man, taking him aside. "Mr. Okafor, here is what you must do."

* * *

Skywarp had taken her back inside and to Thundercracker's quarters after a little back-and-forth in hide-and-seek that her heart was far from devoted to. Eleaniris was merely relieved that Starscream had not called her into his "office" again; she had only barely managed to stop crying just a little while ago and did not want to start again. One could only take so much emotional trauma without completly losing their metaphorical marbles.

Skywarp and Thundercracker were conversing in their usual tone - where the latter held a more controlled and measured tone than the louder former - about nothing in particular, when Eleaniris spoke up and interjected a sudden question.

"Skywarp?" she called from Thundercracker's berth, where she clutched the remains of her cloak and unconsciously played with the three-ringed bracelet on her arm. She had been mulling over this question for a while, and it was quite central to her considerations about Skywarp.

Thundercracker had been speaking, but abruptly stopped and went from Skywarp to her, his gaze resting on her in a respectful way that she dearly appreciated. Those kinds of looks she never received anymore. Skywarp turned around and smiled, crouching a little to be more at her level, "What is it, Squeaker?"

She made a show of staring at her servos for a moment or two, making it clear that she had been careful and serious with her inquiry. "Do you want  _me_  as a mate, or just a mate in general?"

"Why wouldn't I want you?" Skywarp grinned, gently stroking her helm, "You're cute." So he did want her as a mate. That shouldn't have come as any surprise, and it didn't. She had had a hunch since he and Starscream had… approached her.

Yet, it was odd to think that the action and words could have been described as sweet. "Well, what if you couldn't have me?"

She had started to try to convince herself to give Skywarp a second chance, though that ability had never been her strong suit. When Megatron came to get her, she could already foresee him killing the entire population of Starscream's base for their treason. That would not have bothered her in the slightest, as the large majority had used and defiled her in the most dirty of ways, but she did not want Thundercracker to get killed. Skywarp was starting to occupy that boat as well, though very very slowly. Forgiveness was not something that came easily to a woman that had had many terrible relationships and, deep down, was a skeptic of others she did not know. Although, it was helpful to the process when she considered whose orders he had acted under.

If he did not want her specifically, Megatron might be convinced to spare him. Besides, Thundercracker seemed to believe in him, and she was starting to as well (if only the tiniest bit).

"Why wouldn't I be able to have you?" Skywarp tilted his helm, not understanding the gist of her inquiry.

"Just answer the question!" Eleaniris growled under her breath, tired of this. She was exhausted physically and emotionally and only wanted a straightforward answer.

"If you were offlined?" Skywarp's helm cocked itself the other way, thinking. "I would live. Find someone else." Eleaniris nodded but did not give any verbal response.

That was when the walls shook, the force slight enough for her processor to think it was an earthquake but her heart knew who (rather than what) it was as it fluttered, disgustingly happily, in her chassis. Eleaniris recognized that she should have been expecting for Megatron to barge in so soon. A month without his beloved sex slave must have been  _hell_  for him.

The shake was followed by another, stronger one, and finally Thundercracker and Skywarp started to act. The former picked her up as gently and reverently as always, and the two quickly stalked out of the shabby living space.

The two were speaking quietly about the cause of the shaking being what she originally thought it was. Eleaniris did not tell them any different, for her mouth had glued itself shut in the prospect of who was coming for her.  _He tore away my wings,_ she remembered with a rush of anger,  _the only thing that would have been special about this damned body._

 _Not that he cares, though. He'll still use me anyway. A sex slave doesn't need_ _**wings** _ _._

The tremors had not ceased but were growing stronger, and Eleaniris observed that the ground was not "rolling" in waves as it should in an earthquake. Yes, Megatron had indeed come for her.  _He hasn't hurt you. He's safe, and he's rescuing you from Starscream and all the others that want to use you to get off, unlike him. He'll protect you._

 _Why haven't you died yet?_ She mentally snarled at the soft, submissive voice.  _You heard what he has done and what he has planned to do._

She heard a grating squeal through the din of the now-panicked base, along with the sound of falling debris and crumbling walls. Thundercracker and Skywarp had picked up the pace, trying to dodge the others running in the opposite direction as well as chunks of cement. Even though Thundercracker held the servo containing her cupped against his chest, the motion was intense and she held on to his index finger with a death grip. There was a clicking sound following them now, along with the screech of metal dragging over and scraping cement floor.

She knew that they were taking the route out that Skywarp usually took with her, and when they turned the last bend she could see the light at the end of the tunnel. The glorious rays were traitorous, misleading, for what awaited her outside was not beautiful nor innocent. Eleaniris realized that she knew she was not going to die, that they were going to make it outside, right as a large part of the tunnel's cement cracked and collapsed on top of them.

Thundercracker pitched her forward in an underhand throw, and she barely registered that she was flying through the air in time to shutter her optics. When she hit the unforgiving floor yards away from where Thundercracker had been, a sharp pain blossomed in her right side. Thankfully she did not bounce, and when she painfully got up and saw the two Seekers struggling to support the roof she gaped dumbly.  _Move! What are you doing?_

All of the other surprise "attack" situations like this, whether her human self was running from the Decepticons ready to execute her or her escape from the White House, Eleaniris had had Wilson with her. He had kept her on track, pulled her deer self out of her own headlights and knocked some sense into her. She was frozen and did not move until Thundercracker, struggling to support the weight of the cement roof, yelled at her " **GO, Eleaniris! GET OUT!"**

There was nothing she could do to help, and hearing the grating metal coming further down the hall behind them was chilling her into running. A shout rang out in a voice she recognized, but she could not make out what was being said. She sprinted away, ignorant of the pain, pumping her arms and legs madly and throwing off her cloak. Surprisingly her fear-riddled mind mused,  _Where is everyone else? Why did they run the_ _ **other**_   _way?_

Her answer was waiting as she stepped out into the light of day, the sun high over her helm in a cloudless sky. A split second later, her optics adjusted to the light, she realised that she was standing between two familiar, strong, pillar-like legs.

She looked up slowly, dread soaking her processor at who was watching her. The devil himself peered down at her, her position between his pedes meaning he was staring right down. He was smug as if he had expected her to come out this way, and she  _hated_  it.

Something on his right arm glinted under the sun, a huge cannon whose power had been burned into her memory. The sound of distant gunfire and the sight of warships in the sky above did not compute in her processor. Her vision and processor space was dominated by the metal mountain standing over her, casting her in shadow.

_Here it goes._

* * *

It seemed as though his plan had worked well. Shockwave and his Driller had done their job as planned, pushing her out into the open within the sight of his ships. It was risky and dangerous, for though Shockwave had demonstrated great control over his pet there was no guarantee that falling structures wouldn't offline her. Yet, it had been his only feasible option and Megatron had chosen it.

From there Eleaniris would be rescued first and removed from the base, allowing him to quell the dissension in his ranks without any concerns for her safety. If he did not catch her as he had hoped, he had made clear that the mech that did bring her to him would be rewarded with a cyberformed mate of his choice. They were becoming increasingly popular, as he had predicted. Controlling the practice would keep his ranks in-line while also ensuring the speed of important tasks.

When she emerged, his spark's happiness at the sight of her was immediately overcome by worry. Her skirts were gone and her form was riddled with scratches. Some of them were deep, where sharp servos had been least careful with her. They were most prevalent, he had noticed angrily, around her hips and chassis. There was something on her helm, a crown that he did not recognize. He wanted to snarl but refrained from doing so, concerned that it would startle her.

Eleaniris just stared up at him, transfixed, her heart pulsing in a relaxed way even after being tossed on the floor and running. He looked exactly the same, cold smirk and all. "Eleaniris," he said worriedly and she eyed the way his shoulders appeared to roll backwards and tuck in, having the slight effect of making them appear a tad smaller. He did not step forward but rather backwards, shaking the ground under her pedes with his weight. Once he had gone as far as he could without going into the water behind him he crouched, setting one knee down on the concrete walk - cracking it a little - but keeping his other leg bent, ped on the ground. He slowly held a servo to her, and she shook herself and remembered,

" _I've been teaching him how to avoid scaring you. If you want to see him squirm, all you need to do is cry when you see him and stumble away. If you want him to feel suffering, exaggerate being scared."_

She let the tears fall, all of her fury and sadness manifesting itself in a mad stumble backwards, a dramatic lowering of her gaze, and a submissive forward bend in her back. Out of the corner of her optic she saw his red optics soften and his servo went lax, though he cooed quietly, "I do not want to hurt you, little Eleaniris. Please, come to me."

Eleaniris made sure to exaggerate her trembling, a wicked grin forming on her hidden face.  _You already have._

"You took away my wings.  _ **Ripped**_  them right off of my back." She faux-whimpered, though she was still upset at the prospect of him doing such things to her. As if he hadn't taken enough from her. "You  _have_  hurt me."

Megatron lowered his own helm, trying to look into her optics. He was loathe to approach her while she was in such a fearful state. She was very afraid, trembling and hunched over, cowering before him, and his spark twinged in pain both at her trepidation and her notion. "I did no such thing Eleaniris. You were already without wings, as soon as you stepped out." He said as low as his powerful voice could go.

 _Ripping them off?_  He could imagine doing such a thing to Starscream, but never Eleaniris. If she had been Cyberformed with wings, he would have allowed her to keep them. He could not imagine being so cold to her, and the very idea made his spark pulse in both anger and disgust.

His tone became more stern and serious at the lie. "Starscream told you this, didn't he?"

She nodded and he continued reassuring, trying to creep a little closer to her weeping form. Drops of coolant had landed on the ground beneath her hidden faceplates. "You remember when he caught you the first time when you being such a good femme and spying for me." He thought a chaste compliment to be safe though she did not react. "He was going to kill you, precious, and I saved you from him. Allow me to do so again, and I will give you wings." An Eleaniris with wings might be one that was less afraid - and even more adorable too.

Eleaniris scuttled backwards in fake fear, the darkness of the tunnel shrouding her once more. Though her fear was not there, the distrust in his word was. "You are going to take me no matter what I say." Megatron cocked his helm at her, his optics sad at her movement, but she did not care. "So just do what you are going to do." He had heard that tone of voice before in mechs he had defeated in battle.

It was the tone of someone who had bitterly given up. She felt helpless and his spark was slowly angering at the fact.  _Despite all I have done for you..._

"I will not take you without your acceptance." He vented slowly, dispelling his frustration. "I repeat, it is not my wish to bring you harm."

"Really? But you will not hesitate to do so to  _children_." Eleaniris swiveled her helm slightly to the side, looking into the dim tunnel and searching for what had become of Thundercracker and Skywarp. A dark shape was coming towards her, but she could not tell who - or what - it was. She turned back but kept her face down.

"What do you speak of?"

Crap. She wasn't supposed to know about the breeding plans. "Well, I know what you did. You  _promised_  me that you would free them, and instead you kept them  _enslaved_." She couldn't do lecture him about it yet, not without getting Susan in trouble. There would be a time, her gut told her so, but here was not the place.

Megatron did not understand what kept her so attached to the humans. The worry about the human younglings he appreciated, for he thought that it symbolized a deeper concern for young - it would be wonderful for their Creations. However, concern for all of humanity was below her. She had been a non-human soul trapped in a body not meant for her. What was the problem? "I could not do so. They would face  _termination_  from a lack of resources."

 _Fine_. Eleaniris had to acknowledge that point, though she  _hated_ how assured his tone was. Not so craftily she changed the subject, her mind turning to one last aspect in particular. "Thundercracker and Skywarp… they tried to keep me safe from Starscream and the others." She laced her words carefully with pleading, especially worried about and grateful for Thundercracker.  _Madame President_  he had called her and his expressed sympathy for the human race and loathing for his races' actions made her defend him.  _He is the only Decepticon worthy of another chance._

She raised her helm so that he could see her expression, optics wide and imploring.

"Will you allow them back? Without punishment or killing?" Megatron cocked his helm and quirked his optic ridges, still crouched on the ground. He was silent but gradually his faceplates were showing a change. She stood slowly from her position, looking at him. Her heart was demanding that she return to him, that she step into that waiting palm and surrender already.

Like hell she would. She wasn't about to roll over for this fiend now.

"They took you from me." He growled possessively, his red optics bright. Eleaniris took a step back, keeping in mind Susan's words and making an attempt at torturing him some more.  _Why, though, is he so concerned with me being afraid? What makes him_ _ **care**_ _?_

Megatron was not growling at her, and his optics had focused themselves on something  _behind_  her. Yet, she mistook it for him being angry at the proposition. She retreated further, taking step after step backwards to back him into a corner, until a servo wrapped around her body and plucked her up, the motion drawing an involuntary scream from her throat.

" _What_  do we have  _here_?" Starscream mocked her, clucking, "I thought that my  _mate_  would be happy to see me."

She gritted her denta, glaring at him in fury. Megatron snarled, standing upright again and further cracking the concrete under his pedes. "She is  _ **not**_  yours." His voice had left behind the gentle tones and adopted a dangerous, authoritative growl. She had never heard him so serious and his protectiveness sent a thrill through her heart but, as always, not her processor.

"But she is now, aren't you?" Starscream leered at her, his red optics holding an unadulterated desire for her. The disgusted feeling in her belly returned, the same one she felt after servicing a mech and washing herself of their vile transfluid. "I gave her that crown myself." Now he was directly taunting the irate Megatron, teasing him with her.

"Give her here, Starscream." Megatron was twitching with the strength of his rage, the chemicals returning to his fuel lines once more. All of his cables were tensed, keeping his weight off his pedes. Eleaniris noticed the centre of the cannon starting to glow and she cringed in Starscream's fist. " _Now_."

"Megatron-" she tried to warn but was drowned out by Starscream's cackling.

"Why don't you get her yourself,  _Supreme Commander_?" Starscream jibed haughtily, earning a snarl from his former master. Lord Megatron knew better than to reward the Seeker with such a reaction, but the effects of the chemicals were making his circuitry sizzle with aggression and protectiveness. His spark, too, pulsed furiously and called to its stressed mate with fierce tugs. It was fogging his processor and clouding his judgement.

Behind her Eleaniris heard shouts and something heavy falling to the ground. Unfortunately, Starscream's big chest was in the way and obstructed her view. "Oh, I see," his servo loosened and suddenly he was dangling her from two fingers pinched at her sides. It barely registered in her mind that her right side no longer hurt. "Don't want to hurt her?"

Starscream chortled, mocking the murderous Lord and answering his own question, "You, out of  _all_  of us, know that a broken toy is no fun to play with."

Eleaniris whimpered and stared at the floor, her processor sent into another whirl of hopeless grief at his words. As Thundercracker had said, Megatron had broken the will of many femmes before her, used them and then thrown them by the wayside, never sparing them another glance. She felt a tear fall off her cheek again, hitting the cement many feet below. Maybe it would be a relief if Megatron broke her and then threw her away; she would no longer have to fight his oppressive attentions and demeaning actions. Neither of them had said anything to her since Starscream had shown up, but rather bickered between themselves like two children fighting over a toy.

Or vultures over a piece of carrion.

Eother way, in the end she was an object. A thing to be owned and used, without will. 

Megatron saw red as a tiny drop of coolant from his mate's downcast small optics hit the floor, her tiny lip quivering in her despair. She had already had the terrible notion that he had viciously torn away her wings to "imprison" her; the last thing he needed was for Starscream to reinforce the idea that she was a mere toy, a slave to his wishes. She was strained already from fearing him her every waking moment, and he sensed that Starscream was pulling at her last shred of will. As if to prove his theory Eleaniris went limp in Starscream's grasp, and a glimpse at her sorrowful, despairing faceplates drove him, and the chemicals racing through his fuel lines, over the edge. 

His cannon was charged in an instant. Eleaniris' helm shot up and stared at him, mouth and optics wide in shock, and Starscream's flippant courage vanished. The cowardly Seeker returned, moving a servo over his chassis, the beginning of a pitiful plea for his life in his intake.

Too late Megatron realised what he had done when in the next moment he fired, his arm barely flinching from the powerful recoil that it was so accustomed to. The Emperor of Destruction watched as the blast slowly reached its intended target of Starscream's chest but nicked also an unintentional one.

Starscream flew backwards and lived up to his designation as it struck him, the sound of ripping metal and a screech of static from a vocaliser ringing impossibly loud through the tunnel. Yet, the only sound that reached his processor and registered with his spark was the agonized scream of Eleaniris - a short, choppy screech that wavered oddly.

_No._

She had fallen to the floor in a heap, arms and legs in uncomfortable positions, flickering optics leaking a nonstop stream of coolant. Under her, though, was a quickly enlarging pool of pink Energon. As he stepped closer in uncharacteristic shock, he saw the burnt, black mark in her right side. His foolish blast had glanced just enough to avoid removing her arm, but it did hit a tank and remove part of her protoform. Her vents were short and shallow, fritzed circuitry sparking in her side as Energon cascaded out of the hole.

" _ **No**_!  _ **Squeaker**_!" The exclamation was not his own and the warlord shook himself out of his stupor. Eleaniris needed help, and fast. Skywarp bent and collected her from the ground, cradling her carefully and murmuring. All he got back was a barely-audible whimper and sad squeak.

The purple-hued Seeker's wings flared and he glared accusatorily at the tyrant, cupping her injured body against his chassis, "How could you  _ **do**_  this to her? To little  _Squeaker_?"

It was an odd designation, and one that made him bristle further than he already was at his own mistake. It implied an intimate, close relationship and it made his spark pulse with jealousy and possessiveness. However, here was neither the time nor place to fight over this. Not with Eleaniris so close to offlining.

 _Did I hit her Chamber?_ Dread and deep-seated concern filled him.

Thundercracker came loping up the tunnel, dipping his helm at Megatron warily. He, like Skywarp, had heard the unmistakeable sound of a fusion cannon blast but had not heard the exchanged words beforehand. They were too busy figuring out how to drop the portion that they had been stuck under without being injured.

"Warp," he warned, not liking the murderous yet regretful look on the Emperor's faceplates. Skywarp did not hand the injured Eleaniris over and instead engaged in a staring contest with Megatron. Thundercracker, however, peered at Eleaniris' injury with carefully concealed sadness. After all this world had done to her, she had to end up like this? Helpless even more than before?

The massive grey mech seemed to start but instead of grabbing his Empress the Decepticon master ordered authoritatively, "Skywarp, take her to the medic Knockout in the palace medbay. Be careful with her."

"Blame for her death will rest with  _you_ , if you do not make haste.  **GO**!"

Megatron was far from happy that it was one of the traitors taking her away, but very little could be done. Thundercracker was right, and his spark had seized at the thought of her dying and leaving him once again. Skywarp teleporting her to the palace gave her her best chance at survival. Even though warping her might offline her in itself, it was better than taking a cycle to bring her there himself. Eleaniris had appeared to trust Skywarp, though his spark twinged in jealousy at the thought of the prankster having what he had yet to earn.

Skywarp nodded in earnest, gazing down worriedly at his Queen as he warped away with the characteristic  _pop_.

Megatron's fury climbed again and he urged himself to calm, at least for the time being. Thundercracker watched him with the stance of a soldier expecting orders and did not flinch when Megatron fired two more shots at Starscream's frame, making sure that he was offline. It had not been the dramatic ending he had hoped for at all.

However, there was always Prime to hunt down and execute for Eleaniris as a display of great pyhsical power.

The Supreme Commander asked with an edge of steel, "Do you swear your allegiance to me, Seeker?"

Thundercracker nodded once, sharply, and answered "Yes, sir." He was loathe to join him again, but it was not as if his own group were any better. The blue jet had merely doubted the honor of the Decepticon actions on Earth, but had never left behind his loyalty to their cause. He had never wanted to leave, but the actions of their Trine leader had forced him to do so. Now, Skywarp and he had no Trine. Perhaps it was for the best - they had been divided for some time.

Yet the dull ache for the death of Starscream was still there.  _If only you had been more honorable, as you claimed to be, to all of our "opponents." If only you had not been more cruel to Eleaniris than the rest of us have been to her kind._

"Then  _prove_  it to me." Thundercracker nodded again, accepting the orders of Megatron and transforming, leaving the tunnel to join the battle in the desert. He had seen something in the warlord's faceplates, and the Seeker knew he was correct about him being different with Eleaniris. She was something special, for the Decepticon tyrant would not have shuttered an optic over a dead femme before. They were replaceable but, for an unknown reason, Eleaniris was not to him.

Finally alone, Megatron buried his helm in his servos.  _What have I done?_

The Allspark could, he supposed, be used to bring her back should she offline, but it could not repair broken trust. He had been a complete  _idiot_  to allow Starscream to provoke him into using his cannon while Eleaniris was in that traitor's grasp. She was terrified of him before and he did not want to think of what would happen when she awoke.

_What have I done?_

Now there was a sharp edge that had not been present before. Fury ate away to him like an acid and with a growl he left the tunnel and went upwards, towards the battle. The warlord was eager to burn it off in battle and rid himself of the nuisances that had imprisoned his Eleaniris. With any luck it would be over soon enough and then he could take his leave to his palace. Until he could have her company though, he preferred the familiar embrace of explosive anger. Remorse had a strange, exotic flavour that he wished to avoid.

* * *

Eleaniris had been surprised to learn that she did not fear the blast coming towards her in slow motion. She was shocked that Megatron's calm, calculated persona had given in to such a brash action, but she could not deny that death was no longer something she feared. She felt as though this world had nothing left to offer her - if she was only going to be the plaything of horny aliens, what was there to live for?

Besides, she thought it morbidly amusing and ironic how he had destroyed her - though he did not wish to - with his own tool of destruction. It was all too fitting.

When it made contact with her side she screamed like a banshee at the white hot pain that made the Cyberformation pain feel like a papercut. This felt like molten lava had been poured on her, melting away her metal and burning wires. Suddenly she was on the floor and Skywarp was there, exclaiming in a far-away voice, " _Squeaker_!" It had to be a hallucination; hadn't she just seen him and Thundercracker struggling with a collapsed section of cement roofing?

She was aware that something was rushing out of her, probably from a ruined fuel line. Predictably, error messages flashed across her internal display warning her of a breach in her fuel tank.

Oh. So it had put a hole in her tank then. She was not disturbed at this, but rather at the fact that she didn't hate him for this. Was she thinking of this as an...an  _accident_? That made little sense but in her present state she didn't care anymore.

She was dying of fuel loss and she knew it, but the death experience was nothing like in the movies. Her body was going painfully cold, the taken-for-granted pulse in her chassis slowed, and her vents stopped. There was no light rapidly approaching her from above - instead the world was turning gray and cracking, splintering, and fracturing like ice. Slowly the pieces crumbled and fell away, her world shattering like a car window and leaving nothing but empty, cold whiteness in its wake.

Her life did not flash before her eyes and death was a painful experience. She felt numb yet pained and as it was as if she had survived the end of the world as it fell away and was the only thing that remained in an empty, white universe. But, with a sudden panic similar to one who realises they are drowning, she remembered all of the things that she wanted to do and all those good people she was leaving behind.

Suddenly her own mind called her a traitor, a turncoat for running away. She didn't know about anyone else, but she had been elected to lead and provide protection and well-being for her people. It was her duty, and she had just deserted them like a cowardly soldier. Eleaniris tried to fight the enveloping cold with renewed vigor, thrashing like an animal trying to rise above the water drowning it but it made no difference - just as with all of her actions as of late.

The President's last thought as she succumbed to death was that, in fact, she wanted to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you weren't expecting that ending. You think Megatron would have been smarter. And Optimus has finally figured it out, but is it too late?


	63. The Rejection of the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. Mentions of Gore.

The battle was quick and easy, the type that would have found him back in his quarters drinking a luxurious cube of fine high-grade. Any other day he would have relished at the sight of a firing squad culling the cowards within his ranks, thereby instilling order in his faction and cementing his dictatorship.

But today Megatron did not care that the war was won and he was triumphant yet another day as the shots rang out in perfect harmony and met their targets precisely. All that dominated his processor was the possible termination of Eleaniris,  _his_  sweet, innocent Eleaniris. No, she was not offline, he assured himself. She was merely on the verge. If he needed to, he would use the Allspark to revive her in a sparkpulse. She was far too precious to lose.

 _But not precious enough to leave the battlefield for?_ His spark was angry at everything, it seemed - angry at himself for hurting her and angry at the responsibility he held as the Decepticon leader.  _You know that your troops could have handled themselves._

However, Megatron knew very well why he had to stay. His disappearance would have rippled murmured discontent and rumoured disorganization throughout his ranks to the point that even the loyal Blitzwing (who had adored Eleaniris upon meeting her) would have privately questioned the role she played in his lifecycle. He had to leave her alone in order to protect her for if his subordinates deduced that she was loved by him - though one such as he did not feel  _love_  - they could kill her for good and dethrone him. He could lose everything precious to him and so his only option was to end the battle as quickly as possible and  _then_  go back to his injured Queen.

But if he was there when she awoke, after Knockout had fixed her up, what would he say? What  _could_  he say to make it up to her? He had shot and almost  _terminated_  her, even if it was only an accident. Her fear would be even worse and just the thought of it was breaking his spark.

He felt the urge to give her something, even though he knew by now that gifts would not be enough but would simply lay the foundation. He could not return without a trophy to show her how much he cared, and neither could he give her the ring of his affection until her trust was earned.

But what could he bring her? It was only the early afternoon and he had some time to return, surely there must be something he could use to -

Ah.

 _Galloway_. He would have to comm. Soundwave and tell him to have Rumble and Frenzy ready. His jet form sped up, pushing his already stressed systems to the limit to his new destination: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

In a rare occassion of self-delusion, the Decepticon Lord deemed nonexistent his fear to see Eleaniris after what he had done, for the Decepticon Emperor feared  _nothing_  - especially not the reaction of tiny femmes.

* * *

"Eleanor, honey, wake up."  _No way. Is this… real?_

Eleaniris onlined optics she did not remember shuttering, allowing the lenses to adjust to the harsh, clinical white light around her. She felt very alive but nowhere on Earth would a place be this clean. "Room" could not describe the space, for it seemed to have no end. It was just a plain, white floor as far as she could stretch her optical sensors.

Oh, and her mother was hovering over her. Young grey eyes, far younger than she remembered when she had last seen Victoria Sherman, peered into her own. Her mother was not the middle-aged woman that she had been when the cliff had collapsed under her and her father, long before the election. Eleaniris had only seen her this vibrant in pictures from before she was born, when not a single gray hair mingled with the brown.

On her other side her father knelt, smiling gently down at her. Edward Sherman, like her mother, was younger than she remembered - gone were the faint lines around his eyes when he grinned, and his hair was as black as she had ever seen it. The whites of his eyes were clean, the veins that began to show with age absent. If she was seeing them like this, did that mean…

"Am I dead?" Neither of them responded.

"That is for you to decide." A cool feminine voice said emotionlessly behind her. She bolted upwards and swung around with agility she didn't know she possessed. Perplexed, she bent her helm forward to quickly inspect her right side. Nothing. It was as it had been pre-blast - smooth, silver metal. Even her scratches from lusting, careless mechs were gone.

"How can one decide whether they are alive or dead? Isn't it a fact either way?" She looked up and gasped at the white optics that met her own. The robot standing before her must have been a femme, judging by the curves that oddly mirrored her own, but she was much larger than any Eleaniris had seen before. She must have been Soundwave's size, but when she was crouched it was difficult to tell. Simple yet elegant armor decorated her body, having a sliming effect on her form.

"Yes, usually. But that detail can be discussed later." The femme smiled and shrunk down, suddenly Eleaniris' height without the assistance of a cuff. She took a step back in shock but the other simply kept smiling in a friendly way, dipping her helm. "My designation is Circuitsia, Empress Eleaniris. Walk with me, and I will explain what I am allowed to."

Eleaniris followed as she turned and walked away, but looked over her shoulder back at her parents. Victoria and Edward gestured for her to go with reassuring smiles and urgent hands. Reluctantly, for there was much to tell them, Eleaniris went on after Circuitsia to fall in stride.

"I realise that Megatron has not yet told you of me." Eleaniris quirked an optic ridge, wondering how this femme knew that she knew Megatron or anything of what he had said. Circuitsia kept smiling, a knowing light in her optics, "I was his sparkmate, a soulmate if you will, long before he went to Earth and long before the human race was born."

"Unfortunately, I was killed in battle by one of his enemies." Eleaniris opened her mouth to ask who, and Circuitsia clarified, "I cannot reveal who to you." The President's optics narrowed slightly, wondering why there were limits if she was already dead. It was not as if she could take this information back to the world of the living.

Right?

"I promised him that I would return in a new body at a different time." Circuitsia continued to stroll along slowly, though where they were headed was a puzzle to her. "That is why he refused to execute you, Eleaniris."

"In his mind, you are my reincarnation." Eleaniris helm jerked backwards and she stopped walking as many of the mysteries were simultaneously solved. She was not sure whether to be happy that she was not a sex slave or distraught that the brutal, genocide-making enemy was in love with her.  _You knew it all along. There was no other possible meaning to all of this - everything he did for you was because he lost this Circuitsia._

"But if I really am your reincarnation, shouldn't our souls be the same? Shouldn't there be only one of us here, instead of two?" To the perplexed - and emotionally confused - Eleaniris, this sounded like something that would break the Space-Time Continuum, a never-ending paradox that would crash the universe.

"Excellent observation." Circuitsia's lip components quirked in a ghost of a smile, "That is because there are a few different types of sparkmates, and I am one while you are another. Megatron does not know of this, for it is an ancient classification system that was long forgotten."

"The most common, although a sparkmate is rare in general, is the Conjunx. One of these for the right mech or femme would be what humans call a 'true love.' The Endura is the next, and though these are harder to find they carry more, ah,  _specialties_  once the sparks are merged."

Eleaniris was about to ask what sparks were but Circuitsia left no break in the conversation.

"But you are neither of these to Megatron. While I might have been his Endura, you, Empress, are his Conjunx Endura."

Here Eleaniris took advantage of Circuitsia taking a momentary pause to blurt, "What are sparks? What difference does this make? Why are you telling me this  _now_?"

Circuitsia smiled that knowing grin again, shaking her helm slowly. Eleaniris thought the other femme was a kind of pretty that a man wouldn't call "hot", but rather "beautiful." She had never heard anyone call her the latter and mean it besides her mother but that didn't count.

Megatron didn't either.

"I can only answer the first. I am sorry, but I have rules I must follow. You will hopefully understand later." Circuitisa's chest plates split apart, opening to reveal a glowing white orb of bright light that pulsed within. "This is my spark. When I was online it controlled all of my life functions and the movement of fuel, like a human heart."

Eleaniris tipped her helm, pursing her lip components in a tight line. So that was what lay inside of her, too? This spark must be the source of all of her internal conflict about Megatron, which shouldn't have existed in the first place. "What does it mean if my spark feels…  _happy_  when I see him, but my processor doesn't?"

Circuitsia's optics shown brighter and she turned fully to face Eleaniris, "It means that you truly are a Conjunx Endura pair, Empress. While some Endurae can feel a little extra pulse when they see each other, Conjunx Endurae feel a powerful yank and incredibly strong emotions. Fittingly, they are the rarest of the three and it is not often that they are created."

"So not everyone finds a Conjunx Endura?"

"Not everyone even  _gets_  one." Circuitsia was quick to correct, though no haughtiness made its way into her voice.

"Why do  _I_  have to deal with him then?" Eleaniris was ready to cry but the urge was illogical. She was dead and nothing could bring back the dead, right? Unfortunately, she was beginning to have a hunch that something else was up.

Circuitsia took a deep vent through her intakes, willing herself to have patience. Eleaniris did not understand the enormity of what was about to transpire and the importance of her destiny, and even worse was her prejudice against Megatron for his destruction of her world. "I cannot tell you, Empress.  _Please_  try to understand."

"I see." Eleaniris' voice was ice cold and Circuitsia could no longer ignore it.

"He is not all bad, Eleaniris. Do you know how I met him?" It was all she could do to keep her bitterness out of her voice.

Eleaniris, affronted by her statement about Megatron, made no such attempt. "I can guess that you weren't conquered."

"I was a servant in his home, Eleaniris. He found me in an alley on his way back to his citadel one night, with my rapist still on top of me." The Empress went from thunderous to sympathetic and surprised, her optics wide and mouth open. "He carried me back because of my injuries and told me he would avenge me."

"He slayed my rapist and has not condoned the act since. So affected was I that he never interfaced with me before I died, because of my fear." Circuitsia kept walking in the original direction, Eleaniris dumbly still before following.

"I'm sorry." Eleaniris bit her lip components, breaking the eye contact that had suddenly become too weighty for her to bear.  _So he didn't want to do any of those things to me because of this? Is this the reason for his policies?_

 _Yes, if she is stating the truth about these things. You don't even know_ _ **who**_   _she is and neither have you seen proof of these supposed facts. Until you have, take these statements with a grain of salt._

"Think nothing of it. You do not know better yet." Eleaniris trotted to catch up while stifling the sting of being treated like a naive youngling.  _Wait - where did_ _ **that**_   _terminology come from?_

After waiting for a comfortable pause to pass, Eleaniris glanced at her companion and posed the question, "Where are we going?" Where could they possibly go in a massive, endless room of white?

"Here." Eleaniris' helm turned back to what lay before her, optics enlarging in surprise at the sudden appearance of a door. There was no wall surrounding it, but merely a door and its frame. Circuitsia stepped before the panel, gesturing with her arm for it to open. It did, revealing a dark space beyond. "I cannot join you and will await you here. Keep an open mind, Empress, for it will help in the future."

"Thank you." Circuitsia dipped her helm but did not reply, leaving Eleaniris to go inside the mysterious door.

As soon as both of her pedes were on the other side, the doorway vanished. This room was just as endless as the last, but dark except for a group of large beings sitting in a circle a short distance away. Awareness of the echoes her pedes made on the floor was suddenly registered in her processor; she had not noticed the sound in the other room, though the floor appeared to be the same material.

Despite her eerie surroundings, she was not afraid as she approached the circle. Perhaps she had only grown a thicker skin for fear since meeting Megatron - not much could make her afraid anymore. After closing the distance she stopped just outside, thinking it polite and prudent of her.

She was not there a second before one of the six robots turned to her in his throne-like chair, greeting her with a dip of the helm. His strong, reverent voice requested "Eleaniris of Earth, come forth. We have much to tell you." She did just that and went to stand in the centre, her gait measured and formal. All of the red optics watched her passively, the light in them not sinister as it was with Decepticons. It was gentle, pure, and she felt no fear.

A different one explained, "It has been too long since the Matrix of Leadership was within the land of the living, Empress. Your time runs short and so we will explain quickly."  _Matrix of Leadership? Why can't anyone use words I_ _ **understand**_ _? And my_ _ **time**_   _runs short?_

She saw an empty throne and next to it a place where one should be but was instead empty space. Quickly she diverted her attention from it to the one that was speaking. "We are six representatives of the Primes, leaders of the planet Cybertron many eons before the war. Optimus is the last living Prime and remains as the leader of the Autobots."

"You we have watched and, with the assistance of the Time Guardian Circuitsia, have chosen you to carry the Matrix. You have earned our respect in your defense of the innocent and of those weaker than yourself." The Prime left off and looked at another directly across from himself, forcing her to turn around.

"Should you have been forged as a Cybertronian by the servos of Primus, you might have been christened a Prime yourself Empress." Studying her, he tilted his helm just barely to one side. "A pity indeed."

 _Ouch_. She took advantage of the pause and asked, "Why me?"

There was a silence that all of the Primes seemed reluctant to break, and one did so reluctantly, "We cannot break Primus' laws of Time, but this we can reveal: At all costs the Matrix must be kept out of Decepticon possession and only with you will it be safe. That is all we can say on this matter."

Eleaniris nodded despite her internal frustration.  _You are practically giving it to them if you give it to me. I'm their EMPRESS._ "Why send it back at all? If the Matrix is so special, why not allow it to remain here?"

"You must show it at the right time, Empress. It is essential that you do so."

"To  _who_?" It had been a long time since she had recharged and it was starting to show. Why was everything so needlessly cryptic?

"We cannot say. Do try to understand." The Primes sounded sympathetic and Eleaniris tried to calm herself down. The aura of these beings spoke of their power, even though all she had seen them do was sit around and stare at her. "However, under no circumstances can this be given to Megatron. The Matrix holds great power that will reveal itself to you with time, but this demands great responsibility. You have proven that you hold the virtues of a leader, and so are capable."

"The same can not be said of the Emperor." Eleaniris nodded in profound agreement but was annoyed that they could tell her  _this_  but not things of actual  _use_  to her. There was a pause in which the air hung still, the representatives silent and seemingly waiting for a question from her. Eventually they grew tired of waiting, for Eleaniris was too bewildered to ask a single inquiry when there were so many.

The Primes all stood and chanted in unison, an object appearing in the air above her, "We, representatives of the Primes of Cybertron and bringers of the will of Primus, bestow the Matrix of Leadership upon the femme Eleaniris." She looked at them, so perplexed and confused that she nearly missed the sight of the Matrix hovering in the air before her.

It shone with a beautiful blue light that streamed from a central orb, set in a golden sphere. Connected to this centerpiece were what appeared to be two silver handles on either side. Etchings that she could not read were inscribed all over the surface, and the sight of it was mesmerizing. It was huge before, probably her own size, but it had shrunk slowly, coming to a stop once it was slightly smaller than her own servo.

"May the light of Primus reveal her path and may the Matrix make this path possible." There was a pop and the Matrix, Primes, and dark room were all gone. She was once again standing beside Circuitsia who did not look surprised at all that she had appeared out of nowhere. It was odd, because she didn't feel like she had been warped anywhere, but then again this whole place was odd. She didn't even know what happened to the Matrix, but her helm was just trying to keep up with the lightyear speed things were happening to her.

"Hello." Eleaniris greeted the still-smiling Circuitsia, jumping right at the subject. "They mentioned you being a Time Guardian." Her question was implied, and without missing a beat Circuitsia answered, strolling away yet again.

"Yes, I am the Time Guardian. I do just as the name suggests - watch the possible futures and only interfere in the worst of circumstances." Eleaniris raised both ridges in awe of this suddenly factual (if she was truthful) concept and dread settled in her stomach at the implication of this being one of the worse situations. Circuitsia chuckled in response, "But I am limited. I cannot tell for sure which actions will ensure or prevent a particular future for the universe, Eleaniris."

"And I assume you can't tell anyone much, then?" Circuitsia affirmed Eleaniris' question, leaving the Empress to ask another. "The Primes said that you helped them choose me and that they  _watched_  me. How is this possible?"

Circuitsia held out a servo, a bubble of light appearing in her palm. "Show me Empress Eleaniris."

"Only the dead can use these, Eleaniris. We can see whomever we wish whenever we wish it." Eleaniris looked in and saw herself on a medical berth, a large cherry-red mech she had not seen before hunched over her and working with the diligence and speed that came with experience. She could see him hurriedly connecting wires with tweezers and welding holes with a tiny blowtorch, replacing scorched circuitry with fresh replacements; he appeared to be already halfway done with her repair job. He was muttering under his breath but she could hear, clear as day, "Come on, Empress. I know you're still there. Stay with the living."

"Who is that? And how is he already almost done?" Eleaniris was happy that Scalpel was not the one working on her, but this mech was not one she had experience with. Megatron had always been there through her appointments, and curiously she wondered why she couldn't see him in the frame.

"That is Knockout. He arrived on Earth after you had left the palace and Megatron has made him your personal medic." Circuitsia dismissed the bubble, allowing for it to pop. "Also, time passes faster there."  _Huh._

"And where is Megatron?" Eleaniris asked indignantly.  _What is the reason for my anger, though? I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. It's probably my stupid spark._

"That I cannot say, for another of my restrictions is about actions that would impact the future." Circuitsia apologized, stonewalling yet again though she hid it with a smile. Eleaniris mentally rolled her optics but did not reply. "However, I can say that he is trying his hardest."  _To do_ _ **what**_   _is the question._

"Come. The others wish to speak to you." Circuitsia turned around and guided her towards a group of people that had suddenly appeared out of nothing.  _This is getting old._ They had been mingling before and when they laid eyes on her a few split apart from the group, coming to stand before the rest.

At the front were her parents, her father's arm around her mother's shoulders. They glanced at Circuitsia as if asking for confirmation for something. The femme nodded, gesturing with her servo for them to continue.

"We are so very proud of you." Her mother was the first to speak, the beginning of tears making her eyes glossy. "We've seen so much, Ellie. My little  _baby_   _girl_  getting elected President of the United States, despite what all of those bullies used to say to her to discourage." Victoria smiled in a sad way, "And then he took it from you, but you fought him for all you were worth for not only yourself, but the  _rest of the world_  too."

"Ellie, you are very strong." The Resistance leader's optics brimmed with the tears of gratitude, the kind that one gets after hearing extraordinary compliments. "But you were  _never_  the best at forgiveness and were  _always_  the best at holding grudges."

"Honey, you must understand. We all think that he  _loves_  you, but you  _refuse_  to give him another chance." Eleaniris' optics hardened at hearing that she was in the wrong, her tears vaporizing. Megatron was  **evil** , plain and simple. She hardly needed a jury to prove him guilty of that when his slaughter had been  _broadcast_  on  _live TV_.

"Mother, how can you expect me to  _love_   _ **him**_?"

"It is hard Eleanor, but remember what you are supposed to believe in? What you must give to all that trespass us?" Eleaniris fought not to roll her optics at her mother's rhetorical questioning about second chances. Disrespect to that level to her mother would get her a slap,  _even_  if she was the President. "Besides,  _you_  of all people know what it is like to show your heart to someone only for them to throw it back in your face or into the dirt."

 _Ouch_. Nevertheless, Eleaniris clung to her beliefs. Megatron did not have a heart, and if he did there would still be no room for such a pathetic emotion as love for one such as he. Conquerors had to be stone-cold to enslave and subjugate. Her damned spark would not give up and whispered to her,  _She's right. And its not as if Megatron isn't handsome._

She bit back hard,  _Just because I am his supposed sparkmate does not mean that I am_ _ **required**_   _to give in to his demands._

"Be careful with my baby girl. She is very special to me." Eleaniris quirked a ridge at her mother speaking about her as if she was not there. Her father joined in as well on the rude commentary, "My blessings, though I am reluctant to give them." He gave her a pointed look, blue eyes penetrating her soul.

"What do you mean? Why are you doing this to me?" Eleaniris shuttered and unshuttered her optics, but by then her parents were gone. They had vanished, leaving her to choke on whole sentences demanding explanations.

She barely had time to recover before her sister stepped forward. Natalie appeared the same as the brutal day she had died, but without the deep slices and chunks missing from her body. The diamond engagement band still twinkled on her finger, but the fiance was nowhere to be found.

"No one holds you accountable for what happened, Ellie. Not one of the dead thinks it is your fault that he slayed us." Natalie's hair swayed, her almond eyes sympathetic for her older sister, "So stop beating yourself up over it. Starscream's dead, Megatron took care of that."  _You sound like my spark. Why are you not so much more bitter to him for taking your life away from you? Even if Starscream was the one to actually do it, Megatron_ _ **commanded**_   _him._

Her sister did the odd change too, looking deep into Eleaniris' optics but speaking as if she was not there. "She will be what she will be, but you should love her just the same." Then, without so much as a pop, her little sister was gone as well. Only those that had not come forward remained.

She spun to Circuitsia in her hunt for answers. "Where have they gone? What happened to them?"

Circuitsia smiled and said gently, trying to be reassuring, "We have already bent the rules about correspondence between the dead and living, Eleaniris."  _Oh. So by logic I am still alive._ "They have gone back with the rest of those who came before us."  _So there is another side to this place? Maybe the fiance is there._

Eleaniris was happy, jubilant, relieved to hear that she was not dead yet also sickened to think that she was still alive. Hadn't she wanted to live in her last fleeting moments of life when she thought Death had finally come to take her soul, when Megatron had executed her like he was supposed to? But that was just it: Megatron had not meant to kill her - it had all been an accident. There was no more hate in her spark for him regarding that action - but was there ever any hate for him in her damned spark in the first place? Loathing was always present in her processor for her enslaver, but only softness existed in her cyberformed heart.

"Our time has run short, Eleanriis. Soon a choice will have to be made that affects not only the enslavement of your people, but of others as well." Circuitsia dipped her helm to indicate those standing behind her.

Eleaniris turned around slowly, not sure what to expect. This place was so weird, doorways and people vanishing and appearing out of nowhere in this desolate white place. "Mr. Burrough? Mr. Okafor?"

Her Vice President and African ally smiled at her from the crowd of leaders, allies and enemies alike. They were all here in their presumably younger selves, bearing no marks from brutal executions. Their skin was clean, no acid burns evident; their throats scarless, devoid of the deep slash across the jugular - all were healthy and injury-free.

She shook hands with the both of them, a warm smile on her faceplates. Before she could say anything Burrough beat her to the punch, "We've watched you too from the moment we arrived. Though not all of us were rooting for you," he looked slyly at a group of enemies in the crowd, "most of us had left behind the politics of our world and support a fellow human being instead."

Mr. Okafor took the look from the Vice President and proceeded in his African accent, "Before you are a President, you are first a human being. Our words of advice to you," the South African President glanced at Circuitsia for affirmation, "are to remember this when the time comes. Remember that the good of the whole is greater than the good of a part." Burrough nodded in agreement, his lips pressed into a serious line.

"I'm not staying here, am I?" Eleaniris mentally kicked herself. She wanted to remain in the world of the dead with everyone she had ever cared for, but there were so many suffering back on Earth.  _Wait, if I was shown everyone that was close to me, where is Wilson? Shouldn't he be here? Wouldn't Megatron have slaughtered him like the rest of those innocent souls like the monster he is?_

"That is for you to decide," her tone was nonchalant but carried the hidden will of someone who wants her to make the obvious choice.

"Where is Wilson?" Eleaniris asked Jim Burrough and Momolu Okafor, who she had noticed were starting to fade. "Is he not able to arrive here?"

"I cannot answer that." Circuitsia's optics gave no information away, but regardless Eleaniris knew the answer through deduction. It was impossible yet hopeful, as many miracles are.

"He's alive," she muttered under her breath, optics roving over the ground in astonishment. Her helm snapped back up to question again, "How is this possible?"

Circuitsia sighed, still Eleaniris' size, and set a servo on her shoulder. "You may think Megatron is a monster who wields the power of black holes on his right arm," Eleaniris' mouth opened and closed like a fish in shock of the power of the cannon being spoken of, "But he does have the ability to change, Eleaniris."

_I don't believe you. You can't teach an old dog new tricks._

"What is your choice?"

Eleaniris sighed, weighing her options. She had not truly wanted to live until she felt death actually happening, and hearing that she could still go back to try to save them again was tilting her towards one side. The now-faint Burrough and Okafor smiled at her, trying to encourage her, and the words of the latter finalised her choice. "It is not often one gets to live twice, Eleaniris. Do it for us."

 _Do it for us._ Suddenly she recalled Susan's words to her, begging her to come back and save the children from their awful fate by Megatron's servo.

" _I know that you hated him already, that you were tortured when you were with him, but we need you to come back madame. We need you here."_ If she didn't return she was allowing Megatron to triumph, condoning his degradation of humanity in his breeding camps and paving the way for him to keep them under his thumb for forever.

"I will go back."

"I have a prophecy from one of the futures I have foreseen." Eleaniris looked up, submitting to the idea of returning out of duty.  _I will not be a traitor, nor a deserter, nor a coward. I will follow the words of Winston Churchill and_ _ **never**_   _will I surrender._

"Remember this," Circuitsia's optics turned a golden color, akin to the light of the evening sun, and her voice took on a different tonal quality of airiness and severity, "For the Others to become like the One, the One must first become like the Others."

Then her voice and optics went back to normal, the femme increasing back to her old size though no cuff was visible. "When you ask, Eleaniris, a kiss on the underside of his jaw may help." The rest of the leaders nodded at her, gesturing for her to go. They had faded as well, like an old photograph, and just barely were they visible.

"You can do this." President Okafor encouraged and Burrough added with a smile, "Washington wishes you luck, by the way."

He couldn't be serious. There was no possible, conveyable, real way that  _that_  had happened.

Circuitsia repeated, "A kiss on the underside of his jaw. Good luck, Empress." She smiled reassuringly as the floor beneath her yawned open and Eleaniris fell through the gap, the glass of her world shattering again and welding itself together. This time she was left in blackness, alone, with an empty feeling in her tanks.

"Do you think the  _Submissive Embrace_  will work? What if they do not see what you theorised?" Burrough sneered the Decepticon term with disgust, his face dark and eyes worried.

"We have no other choice." Circuitsia turned away from where Eleaniris had fallen through the floor. "Come, it is time to leave. Whatever happens happens." Her voice was grave, sad but accepting - the tone of a doctor who had done all they could.

* * *

The former advisor groaned in the belly of whatever beast was carrying him, rubbing his already-bruised ribs and wincing at the pain, his eyes squeezed shut. Even more flinch-worthy than the merciless squeeze he had just endured, however, was how they had caught him.

He had allowed himself to be lured out by a hologram of all things - a freaking  _image_! - and right into the enormous hands of the devil himself. Those cold red eyes, freezing claws and impossibly hot breath had made him stutter and gasp, the behemoth laughing and baring gleaming fangs at his fearful reaction. "Flush out the rest of the rodents and quarantine them. They will be polished off later," Megatron had said and then had looked pointedly at him, "I will deal with this one  _first_." Galloway's heart had leapt even further up his throat at hearing that, and all that had escaped him was a pathetic whimper. Again the giant had cackled, literally throwing him at another and saying something in a lingo he did not understand.

Presently he cowered in the cargo bay of the jet carting him, remembering with a shudder how  _large_  the silver conqueror had been. He had barely been the length of one of its fingers! Sherman had been unfortunate to attract the robot's attention, but he was not concerned about her. He was banking on Megatron willing to trade for her.

That, and Megatron going through on any promises made. Galloway, like any cowardly desperate person, had overlooked the monster's track record with breaking agreements and had frantically grasped at the last straw in the barn.

He wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming metallic tang of the air in the dark space. Despite his grievances over the smell, he did not want to leave the space he was in. Greater, more dangerous things awaited him outside this robot and he did not wish to face them.  _What could he want with me? Am I not giving him what he desires on a silver platter?_

Too late he felt the unmistakable feeling of the sentient plane descending, the food in his stomach moving with the G-force. These beings were anything but slow and in his mind he could be anywhere in North America. Gears clicked and turned in the walls encompassing him, a few hydraulics valves hissing. They were indeed landing and Galloway clenched his eyes shut with fear.

There was a jolt and the gears turned faster, metal whirring around him and rearranging itself. He was clenched firmly in the monster's sizable fist as it entered a pair of doors and when the dizziness faded away and his bearings came back, the advisor recognised the room he was in. There was no mistaking the throne room of Megatron, not with that unmistakable throne front and center; his mind could not have deceived him otherwise, even with his present haze of terror.

If he had not recognized it, the being sitting so smugly on said throne would have given it all away. Two impossible strong grey legs sat spread in a self-assured way, the arms wresting powerfully on their appropriate armrest and silver hands gripping the edge. Red eyes glowed brighter as they watched him approach, metal clanging against marble as he was carried to the beast.

The jet eventually set him roughly on the floor before the first step before bowing and retreating itself. Galloway, unsteady from the flight whose speed probably broke the sound barrier and, of course, nonconveyable trepidation, fell to his knees and pleaded.

"W-wh-why do you n-need me?" The silver giant growled at the stuttering bag of flesh before him. He had picked better things than it out of his gears.

"I have received intelligence that  _you_  were the one to decide this trade, and I must congratulate you." Megatron drawled, his optics raking over the shaking form cooly.

The reaction he had wished to achieve was there, Galloway's eyebrows lifting in surprise while furrowing in confusion. It gave his face a very screwed-up look, though Megatron believed it to be an improvement. "C-c-congratulate?" Galloway could barely hear himself think over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears in response to his heart's unrelenting pounding.

"On surpassing my beliefs on the severity of human cowardice." The flexible metal of the behemoth's lips contorted into a cruel, furious snarl as he leaned forward in his seat. "And, of course, none have dared try to  _sell_  me what is already  _mine_." Galloway's lip trembled and the skin before his receding hairline was dewy with sweat, although the marble beneath him and the air around him was frigid with the beast's fury.

Megatron had been irate since he had injured Eleaniris, and now he had the perfect punching bag for his twitching servos. By the time he was done, Rumble and Frenzy would be lucky if anything was left. After all, he wanted to be thorough in avenging his Queen's honor.

Nevertheless he would try to be clean about it. He did not want to have to cleanse his servos before seeing his Empress in the medbay - he had already been separated from her long enough and was anxious to make up for lost time.

In the moments before Dreadwing had arrived Knockout had told him that her repairs had been coming along smoothly, although her sparkpulse was still weak. Naturally he had bitten back sharply about her being on the verge of offlining and Knockout had been quick to assure that she would be fine once he had finished welding and put some fuel in her.

" _That had better be the case,"_  he had snarled at Knockout, " _or_ _ **you**_   _will be on the wrong end of my cannon."_

Needless to say, the medic did not reply other than the usual " _O-of course, my liege."_

Megatron smirked at the trembling mass below him, gesturing with a single claw for the hidden humans and symbiotes to come out from behind their pillar. It had the audacity to speak again, begging even more, "W-what are you going to do to me?"

"Well," Megatron grinned cruelly, making a point to lightly scrape his claws against the arm of his throne, "my Queen deserves her honor. Using her as a mere object,  _bug_ , is a great insult to her."

"However, another deal has been made." The Emperor looked at the humans Burns, Simmons and Lennox, pleased to see the kindling of revenge in their organic eyes. "And it involves  _you_."

Galloway's jaw hit the floor, his eyes as wide as saucers as he watched the group of men come forward. Only one he recognized from meetings in-person, and his shock at Burns' presence almost overwhelmed his fear - so much so he barely caught what Megatron had intoned in that impossibly deep voice. "W-what?"

Megatron smiled smugly, eyeing Rumble and Frenzy and making sure that they did not harm Eleaniris' preferred humans. They appeared to have followed his orders, the three men still in their pristine, black palace uniforms. " _You_ , human. Instead of trading for Eleaniris, I decided to bargain with  _you_."

"H-how-" This couldn't be happening; never had he anticipated the tables being turned  _this_  way.

"Simple. They came as ordered and delivered your message, but expressed their discontent that my  _ **Queen**_  was being treated like an  _ **object**_." He flicked his glossa over the tip of one of his sharpest denta as he smirked, chuckling internally at the human's more noticeable shivering. "I proposed an new deal, and here we are."

Slowly but surely his desire to kill the parasite himself was waning. Pure disgust had taken the place of malevolence in his processor and spark, so unadulterated in its form he no longer wished to touch the human with his own claws. Perhaps this feeling would change, but in the meantime he would renew his bloodlust by watching the others first. When the human males were done with it, there would still be plenty of fluid to squeeze from its useless container. Rumble and Frenzy would be more relentless,

"It has been long since I last drew human blood, but I will have the others do it for me." The three men exchanged a quick, worried glance. Punishing Galloway was different from butchering him like an animal. They hesitated but Rumble and Frenzy did not, stalking towards the human man like wolves going in for the kill. Burns eyed his companions, telling them with his eyes to stay put.

Megatron saw this but did not mind. Rather, he was pleased that the men did not behave like the erratic Rumble and Frenzy. Perhaps blood was not their "style" - if that was what Eleaniris preferred, he had other things to worry about and would leave them alone.

"Rumble and Frenzy, halt." Megatron leaned further forward in his throne with his interest. Soundwave's charges did as they were told, eyeing him expectantly. "Tell me, human, who the leader of your resistance effort is."  _Allow me to be rid of all of you now._

Galloway smirked over his shoulder at the other men, a sick triumphant gleam in his eyes, and answered the tyrant's command. He knew deep in his stomach that he was going to die if he did nothing. But there were always deals to be made, and here he saw an excellent opportunity. Surprisingly he did not stutter as he admitted "I will tell you who it is if you spare my life."

Megatron would have been interested in playing this game and toying with this fleshling would his Queen not have been in the medbay. Nevertheless, his patience had run out and his fury was only growing. "Spit.  **It**.  _ **Out**_." He glowered darkly from his throne, flashing his red optics in a clear threat.

Fearful for his life, he wiped his sweaty and shaking hands on his torn pants and said with sick satisfaction, "Your Queen." Burns, Lennox, and Simmons shared a look of shock at the man's revelation; his treachery had only gotten worse. Their stomachs did collective flips - if Megatron changed his mind about Eleaniris and killed her, their only hope was gone.

The Emperor must have seen this glance, and by a small miracle took it as a mutual denial. He did not need their opinion, however, to know that his Queen was innocent. His rage climbed still higher and his cooling fans kicked up a notch to cool his rapidly heating spark chamber and processor. "You dare suggest  _my_  Eleaniris is a  _rebel_?"

His upper lip component curled in disgust at the insult to his sweet sparkmate. She had no contact, no opportunity to contact, any of the rebels. She did not even converse or interact with the slaves in his own palace, for they stayed in their appropriate corridors and did not clean his rooms until they were gone. The allegation reeked of cowardly self-preservation, a odor most unpleasant to the Decepticon Emperor.

"Rumble, Frenzy, remove him. Clean up the mess when you are done." Suddenly he did not want to watch this miscreant's suffering. It was disgusting enough to see it healthy and cowering before him, and he had better things to do with his time.

"But the deal-" the bug begged, a scream ripping through its throat as Rumble and Frenzy grabbed it with careless claws.

"There was no deal." Megatron didn't watch, repulsed, but did smirk at the banter of the mini Decepticons.

"How do you feel about castration, fleshie?" Frenzy said and Rumble laughed, the twins leaving via one of the side doors in the throne room. The Emperor smirked at the suddenly shifting men, chuckling in bemusement.

"Relax, humans. I have other things to do than torture the guards of my Queen."

"Guards?" Simmons echoed, eyebrows raising openly for the warlord to see.

"Perhaps." Megatron rumbled ominously, "Perhaps."

The warlord went to stand, his audios still picking up on distant screams coming from the corridor, but interrupted by a comm. link from Soundwave. Reluctant but loyal was the voice that reached him as he opened the communication, " _My liege, I have heard the news regarding your Queen. I have a proposition if you wish to hear it."_

" _Go on,"_ Megatron growled in Cybertronian, ignoring the nervous humans below his throne in the darkening room. It was sunset, and the orange light was fading.

" _The Empress will be,"_ Soundwave paused, " _frightened, Megatron. All progress -"_ the officer thought but didn't dare to say  _if any_  " _might have been lost as a result of the event."_

He didn't need Soundwave to tell him that Eleaniris probably was just as scared of him as she was in the beginning, that any trust he had earned lay in tatters. Pit, she probably didn't even trust him in the first place - that was the reason she had fled him in the first instance. Megatron ignored his spark's urging to go to her and asked his most trusted officer for his solution.

" _A memory wipe, my liege. As much or as little can be taken as you wish. Alteration is also an option"_ Megatron's spark plummeted at the suggestion, at the fact that this situation had become so dire that Soundwave had proposed such a last-ditch effort. It was tempting; all it would take was a cycle or two and then she would be brand new, trusting of him because of her memory and false experiences with him.

As much as he wanted her to join him willingly in his berth, he did not want it done this way. It would be akin to contaminating her Energon with an aphrodisiac - the interface would be pleasurable, but it would not be the real triumph that he so craved. He knew that real lust would be all the more satisfying, since the femmes he had had placed on the drug were reduced to needy whores.

Because she was his sparkmate, he would not defile her in such a way. Even if he did it and it was done with the perfection inflicted by Soundwave's skills, what would happen if she found out he had meddled with her memory, had rearranged her most private and personal of spaces?

The reason for his building of an apartment for her was so that she would feel secure, that there was a safe space to retreat to should she feel afraid. Her mind was alike her rooms in this sense, and knowing that it had been altered would send her reeling, making her even worse than she had been before. Megatron could already imagine her hiding every chance she got, cowering constantly in persistent distrust, trembling in his servos no matter how gentle he was. Helplessness would invade every one of her behaviours, reducing his proud Queen to a trapped organic mouse. Of course he could always wipe it again, but that would only reset the cycle and stress their inevitable younglings who would have to witness their shaking Carrier.

He couldn't do it this way. There were always other routes for him to take, but torturing her in such a way was not acceptable. " _No. Go back to your assignment."_

Megatron reclaimed his throne to think, allocating no processor space to the confused humans. Before he saw his precious mate, he needed to decide on the best possible impression he could make with her. He didn't want to go only to scare her again, but he must be quick. He did not forget when he had left her for an Earth week after her Cyberformation and her reaction to his absence.

" _I am resigned to think that you have tired of me, that you don't care what happens to me."_ That was what she had said, and it was far from the truth. The real truth and the truth she based her actions on were two very different things, but that did not matter in the slightest. Her impressions of him and his motives were what drove her actions, and so he must try to change those and work from there. Therefore, he had better try to be quick lest she awaken and reflect on her perceived worthlessness again.

* * *

Alone in his medbay (Sophia had gone to recharge with the other femmes in their shared, temporary quarters) and Eleaniris' repairs completed (he had even buffed her scratches away), Knockout had succumbed to his gnawing curiosity and returned to the datapad. Needless to say he did keep an optic on the vitals of his lord's prized mate, but the interest in his spark could not be quelled. He read on, so surprised and enthralled by the contents that he did not hear a certain little femme awaken.

Eleaniris was careful to be quiet as she lay there in the medbay, not sure what to think of the mech she did not know. Experience had made her distrusting, and rightfully so. She occupied herself with stretching cables and testing her movement, finding that no pain was there as she started with moving her pedes and working her way up, testing different areas. She found the courage to turn her helm to the side, fearing the worst as she looked over her right side.

Nothing. It had been perfectly welded together and smoothed, leaving no trace that Megatron had hit her with a blast from his tower-wrecking cannon. It was a miracle to her that she was not dead but alive on this medical berth, and it was no small feat for this to be repaired so quickly. There was not a single error on her internal display and fuel tanks were shown as full.

Eleaniris sat up carefully, mindful of the black tubes connected to the formerly injured spot as well as her helm and chest. She watched the mech with his back to her warily, mulling over her next course of action as she lightly thumbed over the bone in her wrist. Breeding and permanent enslavement were imminent and here she sat, doing nothing to help the people that had done so much for her.

Her debt went beyond the small fraction of people whose votes in the election had made her President; she, in her spark, was still a human being that owed them a helping servo. Because of her great power she had a great responsibility, a great duty, to fight for what was right for them.

But she didn't have any power. She, as the Slave Queen to Megatron, could do nothing to rectify their situation and steer this ship away from its destiny. She was a witness to a plane crash, fortunate enough to not be a part of it but helpless to do anything to help.

Eleaniris turned to the table beside her which held a few things. The silver shine of a mirror caught her optic first and she studied the sad, desperate woman that peered back at her. The crown that Starscream had given her was gone she was pleased to note.

She wrenched her gaze away, thinking over what had happened. She had died, she assumed, spoken to the dead, and then returned. The Matrix of Leadership, whose importance she vaguely understood but did not really comprehend, was supposedly hers but she did not know where it had gotten to. It had simply disappeared. So much for being important.

But the prophecy Circuitsia had spoken of, how she was Megatron's sparkmate, that was something to consider.

 _For the Others to become like the One, the One must first become like the Others._  She could only guess that she was the One and the Others her people, but from there she was lost. She couldn't go back to being human, if that was what the second part meant. The prophecy was circular and made little sense.

She could always bargain with Megatron she supposed, despite the great risk that he would not keep to his word. But what did she have to bargain with? She had no leverage. He had her perfectly pinned, unless…

Eleaniris looked once again at the mirror and the sad but determined Queen it held, knowing what she had to do. With a heavy spark full of dread and remorse, she unsubspaced Megatron's crown and replaced it on her head with a click that sounded impossibly loud to her audios.

There was only one path for her to take now, only one thing left to give the hungering tyrant in her last stand for freedom. If this didn't work, she and her race would be enslaved for eternity, crushed beneath Decepticon heel and knowing only the lick of the whip. The only difference would be that the thing crushing her and the thing licking her would be very different from those of the common human slave, but either way they would be there.

There was no saving her from this fate and that was why the Primes and Circuitsia had addressed her as Empress. This, though, she could cope with by knowing that humanity was free. She would follow the advice of her friend, " _Remember that the good of the whole is greater than the good of a part."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when one of the Primes quotes Ben Parker of Spiderman (which I don't own, BTW). Nope, guys, Eleaniris lives. It should be noted that the Matrix's appearance and concept is not from the Bay movies, but rather IDW's G1 franchise in some aspects (others are my own). It appears that, as this story developed, I came to like All Hail Megatron better than the movies. Interesting.
> 
> Oh, and the Churchill quote: "We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."


	64. The Sacrifice of Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. 
> 
> Language and innuendos aplenty.

Sneaking out of the medbay had been the easy part. Knockout wasn't paying attention as she quietly and quickly detached the cables from herself and laid them on the berth, climbing down one of the legs and onto the floor. From there it was an easy sprint out the door.

Presently Eleaniris was walking through one of the many corridors of the palace, heading reluctantly towards her destination. Thankfully she knew all of these halls easily by now despite their nondescript decor.

She had figured that if Megatron was anywhere in the palace, it would be in the throne room - which was not that far away. Eleaniris jerked her helm to the side at the echo of a human scream coming from the hall entering the T-junction she was in, but she did not stop to find the source. It was probably a human slave being whipped and there would be nothing she could do.

Hopefully her action tonight would bring the slavery of humanity to a permanent end.

The sight of the huge doors did not strike fear into her; they were familiar now, unlike the first time she had laid eyes on them prior to this whole ordeal. Then she would not have surrendered to him, so unbroken was her spirit. It was not broken now, but it was horribly chipped at the edges - enough so to force her to give in now.

Eleaniris almost chuckled morbidly at her own hypocrisy. Months ago, Megatron had taken her to a slave camp that had been experiencing rampant disorganization and unruly slaves. He had gone to deal with it himself, so "terrible" was the situation. Eleaniris had theorised that the only reason he went so far out of his way for this camp, to try to discipline and set right the slaves instead of just killing them, was because it would have been too much of a loss. Megatron had had no problem with picking out the slaves that were troublemakers and making a gruesome example of them - that was how "bad" it was this time. The slave keepers had needed Megatron  _himself_ to come and metaphorically whip the humans into shape.

_Before them was a large crowd, so big she could not see the end of it from where she stood in the shadow behind and to the side of Megatron's enormous ped. It was all she could do to keep her tears in check for the horrors she saw before her._

_That woman there might have once been a teacher, the man next to her maybe a business owner, the adjacent younger lad with the pink scar across his cheek in high school or college. All of these people had had real lives before the Invasion, only for them to all get cut short and thrown in the furnace because it suited the much stronger Decepticons. They were weak, and by the Decepticon point-of-view that gave them the right to conquer and enslave as they pleased and for their own comfort._

_She looked up at Megatron as he ordered the murmuring and shifting crowd, "Kneel." He was testing them, to see how hard he had to push. She knew that he was not lazy by any means, but he was unwilling to spend more time and effort here than he needed to._

_A few looked hesitant and were about to do as he asked but the rest just ignored him. He bellowed loudly in a voice so powerful and strong she shuddered, "_ _**KNEEL** _ _!"_

 _This time he was not refused. All practically fell to their knees before their towering conqueror, who regarded them with steely cold red optics. He was satisfied, since that gear in his leg was no longer ticking, but his faceplates didn't show it. All she saw was cold, clinical callousness there. Obedience was not only expected; it was_ _**demanded** _ _. Megatron may never admit or know it himself, but he was accustomed to having his way with those under him. There was no diplomacy and no leeway - how he ordered it was how he wanted it done._

" _Is this not your natural state?" She gazed upwards, unsure of where exactly he was going but not liking the start one bit._

" _It is not admitted among yourselves, but the truth lies in your craving for unyielding subjugation." She clenched her jaw tightly, pressing her denta together with displeasure. "Is this not why you had governments?"_

Those were different jackass,  _she had bitterly thought._ Many operated by the consent of the people. And I sure as hell didn't  _crave_  for you to make yourself at home here whilst destroying mine.

" _Freedom diminishes your purpose in a mad scramble for 'power' over the others, for an 'identity' of your own." He was stalking in front of the crowd, pacing slowly, looking over them broadly and not allowing his gaze to linger in any one spot for too long but just long enough to make those under it squirm. "Humanity was_ _ **made**_   _to be ruled. You were all_ _ **created**_   _to be_ _ **used**_   _by another."_

_His words and iron resolve were breaking the will of the crowd, as shown in more and more bowed heads and slouched postures, hands folded or clenched in laps as they kneeled. It was not breaking her, but encouraging her in her fight. His words were disgusting to her, as vile as a city sewer, and were only serving to heighten her rage._

_Megatron paused, casting his fiery optics over the crowd and silently daring any to fight him or show any sign of disagreement. Seeing nothing he added with a cold, smug smirk. "For this reason, you will_ _**always** _ _kneel in the end."_

" _Not to men like you." She had growled without realising. Her optics went wide as he snapped his gaze to look down at her, challenging a fight until they pinpointed the source of the utterance as her._

_He brushed her remark off with a chuckle, his optics brightening with amusement. "There are no men like me, little Eleaniris." Megatron was trying to show off his strength and oppressive, unmatchable power and all it did was give her the courage say the truth. She didn't care if the slave keepers were giving her death glares or the slaves were sending her hidden glances that begged her not to do so. Some things needed to be done._

_She said knowingly and measuredly, "There are_ _ **always**_ _men like you." Just as there will_ _ **always**_   _be._

Here she was, after all of that fight, about to kneel to a man like him and denounce her own words.

But there was no choice. To gain the freedom of humanity it was essential to do so.

Taking a deep vent and missing her lungs more than ever, she pushed open a door with great effort and slipped through the crack. It shut without a sound but in her mind there was a resounding, echoing boom. She had guessed correctly.

Megatron sat on his throne, staring off into the distance with no expression on his face, which was held up in a servo. The formerly empty red optics flashed with surprise and that mystery emotion at seeing her and the great metal body straightened itself, sitting back in the throne and placing his arms on the armrests. He watched her, confused, and Eleaniris began her long walk down the room with only the clank of her metal feet against the cool black marble.

Eleaniris had taken the whole walk to this room to plan out what she was going to do, and with disgust and hopelessness had picked her only option. However, she was not so distracted that she did not see Simmons, Burns, and Lennox standing there. Alive, unharmed, and clean…?

_Don't react. Whatever you do, don't react. You can't think about them right now._ _**Focus** _ _._

So she didn't, and instead composed herself with her act.  _This may be your final chance. If it doesn't happen now, it might never._

Her gaze lowered away from his optics, focused on the great steps that led up the dais. At that moment she felt as if she was a virgin sacrifice being marched to her death in the jaws of a hungry dragon, though there were no guards nor rope nor sacrificial altar. What made her sick, however, was that part of that was true.  _You should have let it go._

But still, she knew what she had to do - therefore there was no excuse for inaction. The Autobots were a lost cause; they were not coming, they probably hadn't even understood the message or simply ignored it. Eleaniris knew she would not be able to live with herself if she let this pass unchallenged and the burden was squarely on her shoulders. At least she would only be mourning for herself and not her people as well should this plan work.

When she reached the foot of the dais she knelt, keeping her sight purposefully away from both Megatron and the men, and cut off the Emperor's anticipated inquiry while spitting out her own and trying to make it (sound) legitimate. "Lord Megatron, Emperor and Supreme Commander of the Decepticons, please lend this humble femme your gracious audio."

Megatron raised an optic ridge as his small Queen, miraculously healthy and without a single scratch - or piece of armor - covering that lithe frame, knelt before his throne. Knockout had been quick to release her but she seemed fine. Her walk was not painful and effortful, but easy and natural as she approached him of her own volition.

Both of those factors made his spark pulse in satisfaction, but confusion reached him as her formal and humble words streamed through his audios. Why was she kneeling? What was she doing? How had she known where he was? Why was she no longer frightened?

"I will listen," he rumbled truthfully, his optics displeased at where her optics were pointed "But  **only**  if you devote your gaze to me." She obeyed and he vented at the sight of those white optics. He had been worried that she might have been a vision, a glitch in his processor from worry and lack of recharge, but nothing else could mimic those beautiful eyes.

"I deeply thank you, my liege, for your time and patience." There was no sarcasm there and Megatron wondered if she was alright or at least what had been the cause of this sudden change in her formerly stubborn attitude.

Had her memory banks already been tampered with? He had only spoken with Soundwave a breem or so ago. That was not sufficient time for the lengthy procedure, and he was sure that his most loyal officer would have asked for permission. It wasn't that.

Megatron was not the only one thinking that something had been done to her. The men exchanged bewildered glances, shock written plainly for the others to see though neither Eleaniris nor Megatron were watching them. They had been taken by surprise when they had seen the President enter at all - they had no knowledge of Megatron's rescue attempt earlier that day or his accidental infliction of injury. They were glad to see her unharmed and safe from the treacherous Starscream, but all they could think was  _ **What**_ _is she_ _ **doing**_ _?_

"I implore your forgiveness, Lord Megatron, for my blindness and foolishness." He did not hide the movement of a ridge at her words, openly taken aback by them. She bowed her helm and paused, only to look back up at him, " _Please_ , forgive the ungratefulness of this femme."

This was a most interesting turn of events indeed. He would have thought that their positions would be reversed, with  _he_ trying to amend for  _his_ mistakes.

"I have been so  _blind_ , my liege." Eleaniris fought back a choking sob, instead plastering unadulterated pleading on her faceplates.  _Don't be selfish._ "And now that I have onlined my optics, I can see what I have been missing all along." He waited for a whirling turnabout of attitude in which she would slap him with another stinging insult - be it terrorist or bastard or son of a glitch.

It never came. She continued, still on her knees, "Lord Megatron, Emperor and Supreme Commander of the Decepticons, a mech who controls the uncontrollable and sends them to do his own bidding." Was this  _praise_ he was receiving? "A mighty, fearless king of warriors, who will have  _what_ he pleases  _when_ he pleases."

"Worlds fall simply because you  _wish_ it, because you  _demand_ it, because you  _decree_ it. You are unafraid to pluck the ripe fruit of the universe and swallow it whole, for the universe and everything in it is for your taking; the entirety of the world is your oyster, brought to you on a silver platter." This was praise indeed.

And how  _delicious_  it was.

"Your presence is commanding - your ambition unmatched and your firepower even more so." She looked pointedly at the fusion cannon still on his arm and said in awe, "After all, you wield the power of a black hole with the most  _effortless ease_."

He had not told her the source of power of his fusion cannon - someone else would have, but this detail was inconsequential. Megatron instead focused on the simple fact that he was  _listening_ to this and  _condoning_ its continued existence.

It was not normal for him to accept so much praise. Had it been Starscream instead of Eleaniris, the foolish Seeker would have been underneath his charged cannon by now. But it was Eleaniris praising him, worshiping his might not with simpering words, but with awe-filled optics and delicious truth. Her flattery was getting to him and, more specifically, his covered spike.

"In three days my world had been consumed by your  _ravenous_ throat to feed your  _undying_ hunger. Never before has Earth seen such a display of raw  _power_ ; never before had  _I_  seen such overwhelming  _might_." Megatron sat straighter and back in his throne, his chassis swelling with pride as he gripped his armrests and spread his strong legs, taking up more space than he had dared to before. Eleaniris was no longer afraid and something had happened to fix that (he cared not what); now she was praising him fearlessly, and he was allowed to showcase his size as he had been craving all along.

Finally he was receiving words from his mate that did not sting his audios, but rather soothed them. His fitness as a mate was what she was speaking of and his spark pulsed with deep-seated satisfaction and pleasant warmth filled his processor. The effect she was having was like being overcharged on high-grade - tingly heat in his wires and a haze in his mind.

Eleaniris, meanwhile, took in a ragged vent and tried to remember what she had come up with to say. Perhaps the most revolting fact of all this flattery was not that she was saying it in the first place, but the tiniest portion of it she  _actually_ _ **meant**_  - things like his battle plans, his ability to control his troops, his way with words and the method in which he wove a speech. Her spark admired him for aspects of his person -  _that_ was scary to her, even though she knew everyone had good and bad in them.

She had just thought that Megatron was an exception.

"In a mere three days you had me under your influence and in your merciless shadow." The men were gaping at her, but Eleaniris was far from done with her little skit. She knew that she had to make this good, or he would brush off her deal and leave her with nothing. "This Earth trembled, as did I, in your ferocious grip."

"Then, your destruction stopped. Your troops," Eleaniris opted to omit  _thugs,_ for that truth might ruin her act, "followed your order, as they always will a leader of your limitless might."

"Even though you held the power to destroy this Earth and everything in it, you chose not to. Little planet Earth was to be your home, the seat of your new Empire as you set about writing a new World Order and annexing others simply because you  _desire_  them." Megatron's stance was telling her her plan was working so far - he was prideful, even if he was trying to hide his emotions. Men of all species were never good at trying to conceal masculine satisfaction.

"And if others dare to try to fight, they will stand no match against you. Entire galaxies will cower at the mention of your name, will shudder in the incurable fear in their hearts and minds." With a heavy spark Eleaniris realised that this might become reality - if by some miracle she saved her own people from slavery, there was absolutely no guarantee that he wouldn't enslave other races. But, if this was the most she could do, she would do it. "They will all be in your shadow of influence, and not a spec of dust in space will not belong to you, great Emperor."

She paused and changed course, "Lord Megatron, I found long ago that you are not the biggest, strongest Decepticon." He quirked an optic ridge and she quickly finished her thought so as to avoid breaking the spell, "Neither are you the smartest. Rather you combine brains and brawn into one form, pack the best of both into a hulking, powerful frame." He swelled up with more pride than before, holding his helm up higher. His optics even looked… heavy-lidded, like a cat sunning itself in a window on a warm day.

Megatron felt his spark pulse with smug satisfaction at the descriptions of himself. Maybe Eleaniris did not need the ring or the apartments at all, though that would not keep him from giving them to her, especially after this. He purred and sat back, drinking in greedily her wondrous praise and not allowing a single drop to escape.

"It is only natural that a god of war such as yourself would become a powerful Emperor." Burns was watching her with a calculating gaze that burned through her metal skin, but Eleaniris could not allow it to interfere. Megatron was getting close to where she wanted him, and she wasn't going to back down now. She was in too deep to swim back to the surface; it was do or die. "Your strategies have risen you from the gladiator pits of Kaon, have given you millions of years of life and have brought you here to Earth."  _Yes, I know you lied about your age._ _ **10**_   _million years is more of an accurate count._

"You are the Lord of All You Survey, and this humble femme is  _floored_ by your achievements - past, present, and future." Megatron stopped the beginnings of a groan in his vocaliser. Though his ego was definitely not as apparent as that of Starscream, he still had one. It had been ignored, chastised and inslulted by his mate and suddenly it was receiving all of the attention that had been withheld from it, making him puff up his strong torso with pride. Eleaniris was not only stroking his ego, but was cleansing it with the most fine oil and feeding it delicious treats from her delicate palm, worshipping it like a deity as she cooed and petted.

"Of course, you have taken countless femmes to your berth, making them cry for mercy as you take  _all_  of what they have offered you and still  _more_." All three onlookers were wide-eyed and slack-jawed, wondering where she was going. Her spark leapt at the thought,  _Soon, you will be free._

"Why should  _this_ femme be so reluctant and stubborn? Your might is  _more_ than enough to protect me, and you have displayed nothing but mercy to my lowly self."  _Oh, did I forget to say torture, ignorance, arrogance, bloodlust, cruelty, among others? Oops._ "You have bestowed the high title of  _Queen_ upon my unworthy frame, and still I fought you."

 _You are hardly unworthy Eleaniris,_ he growled mentally,  _but I will play your latest game._

"Now my optics have unshuttered and I can see how ungrateful I have been for all of your gracious gifts and precious time. How could I have been so  _obstinate_ when  _you_ gave chase after  _me_?"

Eleaniris faked a smile and shake of her helm, looking as if she was scolding herself for a foolish mistake. "But none of that matters now, Lord of the Decepticons, for a femme to the likes of me could not  _possibly_ outrun a mech of your strength and stature." She chuckled, "I believe that I repeat myself when I say that the world is your oyster, my liege. The universe and everything in it is ripe for the picking, and certainly this humble femme is no exception."

 _Is she truly going to…?_ Megatron leaned his helm forward, eagerly awaiting her next words.

"But, there is one thing your little Queen desires." Eleaniris hated how she called herself his Queen - it was illegal to do so, technically. She was stepping out of line, breaking the law that had been her job to protect and uphold.

But wasn't  _all_ of this inequitable? Where was the  _justice_ in this?

There was none. There had been none since the first second of the Invasion. All there was was suffering and agony, despair and evil. Goodness and mercy lay dead and rotting, waiting for her to turn away or resurrect them. For her to bring them back, she had to wait for Megatron's affirmation to continue.

"If it is attainable, call it yours." Megatron purred, recalling her words and flirting right back with the tiny femme, "If I can pluck it from its vine, it will be what you wish and when you wish for it." He grinned, showcasing the fangs that she had indirectly praised. He was intoxicated, overcharged on her adoration, and his spike was threatening to break free of its constraints.

"The freedom of the human race from the bonds of enslavement. That is all that I ask." Burns, Lennox, and Simmons watched, mesmerized and without words. The foremost, however, was quickly coming out of his haze. The pieces were clicking together. The look in Eleaniris' white eyes when she gazed back at them sadly, the despair and helplessness and defeat, was incongruent with her awe-filled praise of their conqueror.

Burns had to ask himself,  _All that I ask before_ _ **what**_ _?_

Megatron was amused and frustrated with her defence of the human race, but was nonetheless interested in what she was offering. "Speak, little Empress, and rise." She obeyed, standing on her pedes at the foot of his dais.

As much as the tyrant adored seeing her on her knees before him, his throne room was not the place for his Empress to be in such a position. He would only allow her to kneel in his quarters, when they were alone and in the throes of passion. The image of her kneeling before him and sucking made his codpiece painfully constrict around his spike and he bit back a hiss, overriding the prompt to release the locks on his covering.

Eleaniris, on the other hand, was far from aroused. She bit her lip and briefly shuttered her optics, steeling herself for her announcement and her own condemnation. One last look over her right shoulder at the men was all she needed to remind her,  _Do it for them. Do it for Wilson, wherever he is._

Beyond the veil the others watched, holding their breaths for her revelation. Circuitsia willed her,  _Think of the prophecy. Think of the prophecy._ Okafor and Burrough wished the same, clenching their fists in anticipation and anxiety. The femme had sorted through all of time and space looking for this moment - the one where all of the timelines came together only to split apart again in countless different futures. She only hoped she had known enough to give sufficient information to Eleaniris.

Megatron repeated himself more loudly but as gentle as before, "What do you offer me in exchange, precious?" He chuckled and held his chin up higher, extremely self-satisfied by her commentary, "Why should I release them if the world and everything in it is  _mine_ to control and do with as I please? What makes this  _worthwhile_  for  _me_?"

The Empress thought over the prophecy one last time, hoping that her interpretation was the correct one.

* * *

The purple-hued Seeker had been distraught ever since he had brought his little Squeaker to the palace. She had been hurt badly by her abusive mate, for it was more than a hit this time and Skywarp's circuits fizzled with both anger at Megatron and sympathy for Eleaniris. Neither did it help that Knockout had kicked him out of the medbay for his hovering and cooing over the Queen.

His wings sagged and he vented deeply, strolling through the palace halls worriedly. Now that Eleaniris was back in her "home" with Megatron, she could not be his anymore and he was not stupid enough to fight his Supreme Commander over a mate. That would be suicide.

His trine was no longer a trine and his mate had been reclaimed by her original mate - the one that had hit her, a femme smaller than his servo. His spark was heavy with fury when he remembered Eleaniris cowering in his palm after she had accidentally purged her tanks in his cockpit. She had been afraid that she would be slapped around like she was with Megatron, and now he was powerless to do anything to help her, at all.

When he came back to his senses he found himself in front of a pair of relatively large doors, just outside of Command where the guards had barred him from entering. They swished open before him to reveal a space beyond, filled with towering shelving units with steadily glowing data squares. He hadn't exactly been in a position to explore this room before as he had never occupied a position on any research teams or been one of the officers tasked with specialized reports.

What was more mesmerizing than the database, however, was the little femmes chattering on the front desk. His audios picked up the sounds of delicate, soothing tones and his processor sent relays to move his pedes toward them, towards comfort. When Skywarp was within auditory range he heard the content of the conversation and smiled sadly.

Eleaniris had spoken about this topic a little, too. He'd thought it was mostly amusing but also slightly interesting how the fleshies wrote about space. Cybertron had not had nearly as many sources of entertainment as this planet did and the stories in some of the humans' shows were oddly intriguing.

"Talia, zip it about Kirk and look who's standing behind you." A lithe, golden-yellow opticed femme informed her companion.

"May I help you?" Talia stood, smiling in a professional way that did not reach her optics.

"No." Skywarp flicked his wings, fanning them to make himself appear bigger. He leaned on the countertop, smirking down at them. Eleaniris couldn't be his, not with Megatron standing in the way, but that did not mean that he had to give up on all of the femmes. Maybe he could get close to her by showing Megatron that he was not a threat to the Queen, that he had already bonded with a femme. "Continue your conversation,  _gorgeous_."

The one with the blue optics, Talia, quirked a little optic ridge at him. "I beg your pardon? I don't even know you." He was pleased to find that her tone was not disapproving, but merely confused.

"Star Trek." Skywarp purred, lowering his helm to get closer to her, "I've heard of that." He waited for her to shy away from his presence, but she pleasantly didn't. The Seeker was close enough to get a good whiff of her scent and he rumbled, "Skywarp, Tailia."

"It's  _Talia_. Tally- _Uh._ " The femme rolled her optics in an exasperated manner, her arms crossed over her chassis. "Remember that, Sky _dork._ "

He smirked at her, charmed. She was making him forget about the injured but likely to live Eleaniris and it was a welcome relief to his spark - perhaps this little femme could fill the cavity Eleaniris had left. Talia looked him up and down and went back to her conversation with the other femme, ignoring his presence playfully (in his perspective, anyway.)

"Where was I, Kimora?"

"The Original Series vs. Next Generation." The rolled her golden optics, her tone disinterested and bored. She was a pretty one but she was already taken. He could sense it by the telltale markers a mech had left on her - a Constructicon, from the underlying earthen scent. He may have been an idiot, but he didn't want to get into a Challenge with Devastator. When a mech ticked off one Constructicon, you ticked off  _all_  of them.

Anyways, Talia seemed to be such a  _cute_  little thing. He picked up a mech's scent on her, but it seemed old and was very, very faint - so far gone that he didn't have any idea of who it might have come from.

"Oh. Right." Talia nodded, starting off again. "Kirk was  _obviously_  the better captain. He made the show more interesting. Picard just didn't have the same charm."

Skywarp nodded, interrupting her again, "They didn't get into enough fights in Next Generation. It was all  _diplomatic_." Talia's optics lit up in the way one's did when they recognized someone that agreed with them.

" _ **Exactly**_!" Talia nodded earnestly, looking at Kimora and gesturing at Skywarp. "See,  _Skycorp_  gets it."

"Sky _warp_ ," he purred, taking a risk and getting closer to her. " _Tails_." A corner of her lips jerked upwards, her optics reflective. The little processor behind them was working on something.

Talia had yet to see Shockwave since the bomb had dropped about his schemes and she had been glad for it. The lull had given her time to look for options for a mech that would want to defend her and risk his life taking her away from that awful scientist. She had been developing feelings for him too, only for them to get swept away with the news. A shame.

Unfortunately, all of the visitors to the palace knew who her mate was, and were hesitant to fight because of the Driller. They sensed a fight with greater costs than benefits and dared not make advances on her.

But here she had received a blessing. This jet she had never met before and was probably, for whatever reason, new to the palace. What little she had seen showed that he was familiar with one of her favorite topics, and that was good enough for her. For a Decepticon he seemed nice enough.

"Skywarp," she said softly, giving him the look that had worked on Shockwave and creeping towards him. "Do you have a mate?" She rested her servo on his cheek rim, petting the metal and noticing its underlying purple hue. It was light and made his armor pretty; she had always liked purple.

The purple Seeker could hardly believe his luck. With a contented rumble of his engines he purred right back, leaning into her touch and nuzzling her to rub on some of his scent, "No." He added quickly, "And if I did, I would be sure not to hurt her. She will always feel safe." His voice lowered to a murmur, "I wouldn't hit her like Megatron does Eleaniris."

Talia was smiling until she heard the part about Eleaniris. Abruptly her look went from thinly-veiled sensuality to shocked and confused. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Kimora who was wearing a similar expression. "I don't think that Megatron abuses Eleaniris."

Kimora frowned and affirmed, "He wouldn't hurt her at all."

Feeling effectively shattered, Skywarp narrowed his optics. "But he does."

Kimora shook her helm and defended her stance, "No. I  _know_  that he doesn't abuse her physically. All he has ever done is try to make her feel comfortable here."

Skywarp allowed his optics to harden.  _Eleaniris lied. Little Squeaker didn't tell me the truth. Megatron didn't hurt her after all. Not before the cannon blast._ Before he could turn to storm out and fly somewhere to sort out his feelings, another mech came in.

"Talia," the single-opticed being growled, his voice booming in the empty library, "step away."

"Skywarp," she squeaked quietly in response, eying the scientist, "Don't let him take me away. Don't let him. Please." Her frantic begging was pulling at his spark, the same one that wanted sparklings and little mate to keep it company. He had a feeling that Thundercracker would like her too, though it was likely that he would find his own mate on this planet - there were many, many femmes to choose from. Talia would fill the gap indeed, the hole that lying Eleaniris had left behind in his tattered trine. She would become his little Squeaker to replace the one that had left.

But first, it appeared that he had to win her. Flaring his wings and baring denta in a sneer, the Seeker braced himself for a fight. Shockwave responded by charging up his cannon arm and the two mechs sized each other up, special testosterone-like chemicals flooding their fuel lines.

"I challenge you for the femme Talia," Skywarp shouted, too idiotic to realize what the scientist probably had planned as his words echoed across the empty space. "Until surrender I will fight for her."

* * *

Knockout hummed in excitement at what he was reading, his optics narrowed with interest at the datapad. He was nearly done, and once his lord came in to take his mate away - she was about ready to be discharged - he would inform Megatron of the possibilities that their bond offered. Speaking of the little Empress, he wondered what her vitals were. He hadn't checked them while he was wading through a particularly tough paragraph with plenty of antiquated phrasing and he should just to be safe.

His spark leapt out of his chest when he nonchalantly glanced at the monitor next to him, displaying flat lines for everything: spark pulse, fuel usage, system activity, everything was not registering. It should have gone off and produced a loud beeping if she had gone offline.

He panicked even more when he wheeled about and saw an empty berth, cables askew and missing its patient.

Oh no. He would be lucky if he had any armor to polish and repaint if Megatron found out about this.  _She can't have gone far if she is that small. Surely something must be hurting after being nicked with a blast like that._

Clutching his datapad, he checked under the berths and listened for any movement before heading out in a hurry. He scolded himself for his fatal ineptitude and searched the halls for her,  _Where_ _ **are**_   _you?_

* * *

The prophecy was a sentence of circular gibberish that had failed to make sense in her situation until she came to one disheartening conclusion.

Once Eleaniris had started to think of the prophecy in terms of slavery and freedom, it made sense to her. It was a simple trade of places: For the Others (her people) to become like the One (herself) the One must first become like the Others. For her people to become free, she must first become like her people.

 _For the_ _ **slaves**_   _to become like her, she must first become a_ _ **slave**_ _._

Unfortunately, the prophecy said nothing about what was going to become of her  _after_ she had become a slave.

There was no other way, however. All of the other paths that she had tried in order to lead her people from the dark tunnels of slavery had caved in, leaving but one. With great defeat and great sorrow, she allowed her words to leave her. They were like wild birds released from a cage; once she set them free, they could never be taken back. This was her fate and she felt like a virgin sacrifice to a hungering, enormous dragon, given up in the hopes that her village would be safe from a fiery destruction.

Those blazing optics did not help that notion either.

"I will be your Queen, your Empress, your consort," her act cracked and she looked down at her servos, her optics beginning to leak in her absolute despair, "your Padme."

"I swear allegiance to the Decepticons and, naturally, to you, Emperor of Destruction."

Megatron purred, his optics bright with lust and the other emotion she could not name. It was over for her and there was no way for her to make it out now. She had said the words and released them from their cage in her chest, which still remained tight with nervousness and terror for what was to come.

"No!" Burns protested, stumbling up behind her with eyes wide in fear of what she was doing. "You can't throw your life away like this! You're our  _President_!"

"It's my life to throw away," she hissed back, trying in vain to keep Megatron from hearing, "And I am a President no longer."  _I have become the Slave Queen._ "Make no mistake, Burns," she whispered, "This is not Yorktown."

"This is Dunkirk. Survival is the only  _possible_  victory here."

He heard the first part all right and his chassis deflated by a fraction, her words echoing in his processor.  _Throw away?_  Megatron had been too angered and confused to hear the second part, her words far away as he thought over what she meant.

His optics narrowed and she turned back to look at him, smiling that adorable smile that made him forget what he had just heard. He had not seen that smile in a while and decided that he like seeing her faceplates that way. She was just so  _cute_.

Nevertheless, he had to be sure of what he was getting. "Well," he drawled, leaning forward and lowering a flat servo for her, "that is quite the bargain indeed."

"Are you sure that this is what you wish, my delicate flower?" Eleaniris fought the urge to shiver in disgust (from her processor) and delight (from her spark) at the way his glossa seemed to taste her nickname as he purred it. She climbed up the stairs, an arduous process, and into his waiting palm before she answered.

This was her only choice. There was no backing away now and she was fulfilling her oath. She was doing what she had felt needed to be done the second she realised that she was dying - her duty was being carried out.

"I will be the plaything of your will." She revealed her secret, smothering tears and keeping them from cascading down her cheeks, "My honor, freely given, is yours to take and taste my liege." He had risen her in front of his face and she bent, tilting her helm backwards to kiss the underside of his jaw.

She whispered to him on her glossa of velvet, "My last words will be, a _ll hail Megatron_."

The nanoclick he had felt her give him the Submissive Embrace and say those words he thought he felt one of the locks on his codpiece snap. She was his now and never would he let her go. His spark thudded and more requests to release his spike popped up on his internal hub.

But there was something else that he needed to ask, something nagging him in the back of his processor about what she had said. "Your  _honor_?" There were many meanings and he wanted to be sure of the one he believed it to be. How miraculous it would be if that was what she meant.

"Are you a  _virgin_ , my beautiful Queen?"

The question was not sneered nor mocking as it had been when her roommates used to ridicule her. It was coloured with overflowing awe, hesitant joy, and a hint of  _lust_. She nodded and broke eye contact, a tear slipping out of her optic.

That was it. He couldn't take the strain on his pressurized spike any longer. She had promised to be the playing of his will, and the use of his own quotation and the implied consent gave him all he needed. This deal was well worth it; he didn't need to keep the humans as slaves for them to be useful, and he certainly wanted his Queen in his berth.

" _Done_." Was his final syllable, a death knoll to the astonished and agape men on the floor.

Megatron rumbled strongly and kissed the side the drop had fallen down, his huge lips unknowingly removing the coolant in its smother. She bit her lip and shuttered her optics, ashamed while she let him do as he wished to her.

She might as well get used to it now.

He broke the kiss and leered at her, sending an English transmission triumphantly to the billion mechs in his army, "Halt all construction and slave work immediately. Wait for further orders." Eleaniris barely registered that she had won, so distraught was she about her future as a berth slave.

 _She did it,_ Burns thought, freedom not really sinking in yet,  _It's actually over._

_But at what cost?_

He purred and nuzzled her before cupping his prize against his chassis, standing and striding right over the human men while clicking at her soothingly.  _Maybe I should have shot her sooner_ , he joked with himself,  _It certainly made her realise my power._

Knockout was there outside the doors when he left and the flustered medic gaped at Eleaniris in her mate's grasp. "Yes, she found me." Megatron's voice was a deep, husky tone that Knockout had only heard before -

Oh. It apparently wasn't too much to take her the same day she had been blasted.

Megatron jostled the stunned red mech on his way past, Knockout shaking himself and coming to about the datapad in his servo. This might be his chance to tell this to his master, for if they sparkbonded tonight it might be old news tomorrow.

Assuming that that was what Megatron wanted to do with the little femme.

"My liege! There is something I must say about -"

Megatron turned about and cut him off, impatience rolling off him in waves. "Is it about her injury?"

"N-no. Not exac-"

" _Then_  it can  _wait_." He growled, a threat in his tone not to follow him or there would be consequences. Knockout watched as the Emperor left, carrying his Empress and cooing to her heatedly. He shrugged and went about his own way, deciding to head to his quarters for the night. Hopefully her screams wouldn't rouse him and Megatron wouldn't need him to repair  _another_  part of her today.

Eleaniris tensed her body in her despair, allowing her sacrificial self to be carried off in the metaphorical jaws of the amorous dragon.  _There is truly no hope for me now,_ she mentally cried amidst his vibrating purrs and strong rumbling croons,  _if there ever was any._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The speech from Elle's memory was loosely based on Loki's from the Avengers movie. Just couldn't pass it up for this. BTW, can't wait to see Dunkirk in theatres. It looks good.
> 
> Thank you to all of my loyal reviewers, favorite-ors, and followers! You're all so special!


	65. The Berth of a Tyrant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is one of the chapters that make this story rated M; steamy smut and language.

Eleaniris could barely contain her quivering by the time they arrived at his quarters. Her processor felt as if it was going to shut down from horror and disgust at what Megatron planned for her, and a part of her wanted that to happen. At least then she would not be awake to experience what was sure to be a brutal deflowering - from the intense rumbling and strength of Megatron's purring, she guessed that he would be anything but gentle.

Had it been necessary to lay her praise on  _that_  thick to get such a reaction from him? A half of what she had done might have worked.

Yet if Megatron had not been impressed enough, she might not have gotten the outcome she had striven for and would have lost all of her leverage. Those words could not be taken back even if the deal didn't work, and Megatron probably would have brought her up here anyway. At least in that situation she could say no to any sexual activities.

Here, she could not. She had given him herself, in his berth, tonight as part of the bargain.  _It's actually not that big a price to pay. One person has sex with the enslaver and the slaves are free. That's pretty cheap._ Thinking of it that way might have worked if she had been able to remove the fact that the one person was  _herself_.

The Emperor had no such qualms. Megatron knew that he could resolve humanity's fate tomorrow, after his Queen had been possibly impregnated with a sparkling. Or maybe he would take a few days off to make up for lost time with his mate in their berth - thinking that reminded him of yet another issue. He had better allow the mechs to take their femmes to berth, lest he face another rebellion from within his own ranks.

" _Soundwave, you have my permission to construct a distributor cuff for yourself to use as you wish. Inform the other mechs with femmes as well."_  Megatron cut off the comm. link before he could hear the thanks of his Communications Officer.

The guards opened the doors quickly for their master, baring the dark chambers to him and his mate. When they were shut Eleaniris heard the great boom as the sound of her tomb being sealed, akin to the first time she was in this room, when she thought she would be a mere  _pet_.

How wrong she had been. All of the evidence pointed to Megatron wanting to reach this conclusion with her from the very beginning. This had been his plan all along. So distressed was she that she did not greet the purple and red pairs of optics looking at them in bewilderment from their place on the couch.

"M-master, i-is she alright?" Wheelie's shaky voice dared to ask the towering form of his Supreme Commander. If she was hurt, he didn't want to think of what would become of him if she offlined. Megatron might keep Borealis around, but he was just a scrap drone. The Emperor had even said that his only purpose was to amuse the Queen. If there was no Queen to amuse…

Lord Megatron clutched her even closer to his chassis and growled, low, fierce, and possessive. Wheelie stepped backwards and bowed his helm, not making any move to open his mouth.

"She is fine." The deep timbre of his master's voice made him shiver, though it was not in fear.

With that, Megatron vanished into his berth chambers.

" _Finally_ ," he purred down at the tiny mate squished into his chassis, "after all these eons, my precious Circuitsia." Eleaniris looked away from the chest plating in her face and up at him. It was still very hard to believe that she had actually met the femme he spoke of, but why use Circuitsia's name instead of her own?

" _So affected was I that he never interfaced with me before I died, because of my fear."_ In that context, the choice of words made undeniable sense, She had already known by the look in his optics, by the sudden impossible deepness of his voice, by the heightened possessive nature of the servo holding her, that he was going to have sex - interface, whatever - within the hour.

Even so the direct, coherent thought made her shiver in renewed vigour.  _He's going to take you in his berth, subjugate you and possibly impregnate you._ It was the difference between sensing that someone was following you through a dark alley and being told, "Someone is following you."

She lowered her gaze again to hide the coolant dripping down her cheeks.

Megatron continued to coo at her as he strode towards his berth, hastily explaining so that he could go on to the main event in the knowledge that she knew the significance of what was about to transpire. "Eleaniris, you are the reincarnation of my sparkmate, my first adored Queen."

"So precious are you." It didn't register with him that her expression was not one of shock - all he knew was that he needed to get his codpiece off as soon as possible. However, to do that he had to prepare her first, to get her just as aroused as he was. "My long-lost mate, the soul of my dearest Circuitsia brought back to me."

If she hadn't seen Circuitsia in her dream-like world, she would have diagnosed him with insanity on the spot. Yet, if he hadn't said those words, she would have begun to think that the life-death-life experience had been a hallucination caused by her state. However, those simple sentences refuted both ideas and turned them on their heads.

Naturally she could only assume that the world she had visited had, indeed, been real. There was no other place she had heard that name before this, no conceivable way for her processor to conjure up a likeness of a random femme and call her "Circuitsia." The whole revelation and confirmation that world had been real blew her mind.

Was it Purgatory she had been in? It certainly didn't fit her description of either Heaven or Hell, and the fact that everyone that had been there had had to be summoned fit this. She was not aware of that, but what she did know was that Megatron was rapidly approaching his berth. It was going to start.

And she didn't have a damn choice.

He laid her down on his berth, having decided that this was the place for her first time. He didn't want to rip up her blankets with his claws if he subjugated her in her own, separate berth. No matter how gentle he was, she would be hurting tomorrow and would need a soft place to rest her tired frame - the Emperor would not have his Queen lying in a shredded, soggy filthy mess of sheets while she recuperated.

That would come later.

Megatron detached his fusion cannon and leaned it against the nightstand, within easy reach should they be interrupted. He did not remove any of his armor, thinking it best to keep on just in case he had to defend her. As he went to get on the berth himself he remembered that the soundproof systems for his apartments had not been activated. He grinned in the dark of the room at the prospect of his Queen's screams of pleasure echoing throughout the palace, despite her tiny size.

The delicious sounds he would bring from that vocalizer tonight.

There was no light in his chambers except for that which emanated from their optics - his mostly, given his unchanged enormity - and the meager amount that came from the small, barely showing moon. Hazy red light, however, did nothing to mar the beauty of the little frame beneath him, thin, attractive limbs spread luxuriously for his devouring.

Nevertheless he had to be careful and slow. A rapid pace would satiate him, but should he go too far he could pound her into his berth until she offlined. She was not a slave like some of the other femmes he had brainwashed and taken to berth since staging his rebellion - those he had used and broken over the course of one, sometimes two, interface sessions.

Starscream had, as annoying as it was, been correct when he had said that none wanted to play with a broken toy. If he wanted to keep Eleaniris intact for many more millions of years, he had to be careful now more than ever. He had had a few virgins and knew how tight they were - she would probably be even more so, since she had been human. He would need to gradually arouse her and allow her lubricant to coat her valve to the point of overflowing.

Eleaniris squeaked as she felt him push his nasal plating into her belly, the sharp cold catching her off-guard. He nuzzled her carefully, rubbing himself on her prone body with gentle but firm movements. Those red optics watched hers intently, observing the effect he was having. Once done with nosing her, he pressed his lips down and caressed her flat midsection with them, lipping slightly her sides and lingering over the spot he had shot her.

He rumbled after a few moments of inspection, evidently pleased with the healing of her injury and moving up to her chest. She realised with a start that she was the equivalent of naked, but fought the urge to shy away. She could not deny him what she had promised, as much as it pained her to follow through with her own deal. Just as he had done with her belly he did with her chassis, the movements slow and deliberate.

Megatron's lip components found where her nursing tanks would extend when she was carrying and he purred, nuzzling the spot with featherlight touches that were difficult for a frame of his size to administer. He could tell, though they hardly protruded from the surrounding metal since they were empty, that they would be a fine size for his young. He licked gently at the protoform coverings over the tanks' twin tubes, revving his engine in the knowledge that his sparkling would soon suckle there.

Perhaps, once his young had their fill, he would finish off what was left. There was no point in wasting the refined Energon that only carrying mechs and femmes could make.

The Slave Queen watched, transfixed as a witness would be to a train crash, as he fondled the place her breasts used to be. His glossa slipped out of his mouth to flick at the metal where her nipples had been, sending a jolt of pleasure from her pulsing spark that tingled her spine and helm. "It pleases me greatly that my sparklings will not go hungry, my Queen." he commented, his mouth still pressed against her body so that his deep voice vibrated her small body.

She shivered and Megatron chuckled, leaving her chassis alone and focusing on her face. He had the urge to taste what had been barred from him for so long, and he did not deny it. He parted his jaws so that the tip of his glossa slipped out, dripping oral lubricant, to lick at her cheek. Megatron raised his helm and shuttered his optics, not bothering to conceal his pleasure at the taste of his precious mate. Such a reaction need not be hidden from her for she was his Queen, not a soldier who needed last-resort discipline by being taken to the berth.

He had done that with Starscream often, to remind the flippant Seeker who the dominant was. There was nothing to their fragging other than a universal fight for dominance, which Megatron always won the instant he had Starscream on his spike. It had been a show of whom needed whom, and burying his pleasure had been necessary to reprimand a traitorous Second and demonstrate that it was Starscream who required him, not the other way around.

But here, in his private quarters, he could do as he wished with his little Queen without the hinderance of an facade. He onlined his optics and looked down at her, like a wolf might do a helpless fawn. Eleaniris shivered and wrote her own metaphor.

_Like a dragon might do a sacrificial maiden._

Megatron dove back in, giving her another lick around her neck that also splattered slime over her chassis. Eleaniris' lip quivered unseen at the unwanted sexual attention, but remembered her duty and tilted her chin up, present the dragon with more of her delicate throat.

He took the offering instantly, devouring her fragile neck with fervent, short lapping. To Eleaniris' horror, she felt a pool of warmth starting to spread from the apex of her thighs, filling her belly and making her legs weak.  _No._

Megatron nuzzled her cheek again, his faceplates filling her vision, before he went down to her bared belly and passed his glossa slowly over the silver metal that had replaced her tanned skin. The grey snake writhed over her abdomen, taking in streams of data about her heated metal and succulent flavour. His licking was less rushed and definitely more slow - he was taking his time, tasting her as he had before. Each lap sent chills racing up and down her spine, as it had when she had awoken in Egypt in an identical position.

Once her belly was as coated in the thick ooze as her neck was Megatron pressed his lip components to it in a kiss, purring at his work. Though she could easily scrub the slime away, his scent would remain for some time with how much pheromones she had been covered in. Femmes would not smell it, as their olfactory sensors were calibrated differently. To any mech nearby her, however, they would sense a claimed femme.

His lips spread the thick substance a little, moving it around and smearing it into her protoform as he mouthed the flatness of her abdomen. Though it was hopelessly attractive to him, he was slowly growing frustrated with its appearance.

It was too flat for his liking now - he wanted to see it round a bit to accommodate growing young.

With a burst of mechly satisfaction, he purred in a sultry, powerfully deep voice, "I cannot wait to watch you grow heavy with my sparkling, precious." Eleaniris' optics threatened to overflow and her vocalizer nearly caved to the urge to scream as he pecked her belly again and then looked up at her, "It will be soon."

Since the first month of her capture, Eleaniris had learned that she did not need to fear him. He had proven that there was no reason to - there was not a single threat to her person that originated from him. All of that had changed the instant she was placed on his berth, the second this had become real to her.

 _He's going to take you in his berth, subjugate you and possibly impregnate you._ She hadn't even made a sound. All she had done was lay limply and grant him his wishes, roll over for him as the rest of the galaxy, and maybe the universe, would be forced to.

Two huge fingers pushed her legs apart, opening them wide to his gaze. "Remove your panel for me, my Queen. Allow me to see you fully." Megatron leaned over to nuzzle her cheek again, and she cried as she wordlessly sent the command. Before, when Starscream had ordered her to do the same, she had stood up to defend herself and her dignity.

Dignity no longer remained in that sense. Eleaniris had dutiful dignity as well as personal dignity - she could keep her professional dignity only if she allowed him to take her personal away. Billions of people were counting on her to do this, and once again she reminded herself that her everything was a small price to pay for everyone else's everything.

She could at least rest in the knowledge that her people were safe, and who knows - maybe she could kid herself into being somwhate happy with Megatron. He had given her plenty of attention and gifts, and had even planned a garden for her enjoyment and named his capital in her honor. That was quite meaningful. Maybe she could pretend that he loved her - she had duped herself into believing the men before him had.

But she could never erase the fact that it was her destroyer, the enemy of everything she stood for and loved, who was purring at the sight of her bared - what had some of Starscream's mechs called it? -  _port_. Heat still emanated in waves from her valve and she could sense a fire in her loins that had not been there for some time.

 _ **Lust**_.  _Dear God, why?_

Megatron groaned when her panel slid apart with a telltale click, uncovering the delicate petals of his precious flower. His assumption had been right - human females were  _tighter_  than femmes. Even though her organs had shifted and transformed to fit a new body, the tightness of her valve had not changed. The fact that she was a virgin only made her more constrictive and his spike twitched in anticipation behind his own panel.

Eleaniris eeped and jumped a little when he boldly kissed her nether lips with his enormous mouth and drew in air, smelling deeply her unique scent and carefully filing it away. She watched in terror as his optics grew brighter as he consumed her smell.  _Why is he taking his time?_

Megatron purred again, affectionately rubbing his cheek over her belly before going back to her damp port. It was slowly becoming painful for his spike to be hidden away, yet the warlord knew he had to be careful. She wasn't nearly wet enough yet and if he tried to enter her even the most gentle of thrusts would rip her. He was the master of his body and could hold off on the primal base coding for a few minutes more just to get her properly lubricated. Placing two claws on the inside of each tiny leg to keep them apart, he opened his mouth and allowed his glossa to slip out.

She yelped as it made contact with her and fought not to try to slam her legs together; she had to allow him to do this. He chuckled at the cute sound and the enormous tongue slowly slid upwards, covering her in copious amounts of translucent slime that clung to her body stubbornly where it could. The rest dribbled down onto the berth in lethargic streams, making a small puddle beneath her hips. As the glossa tapered to its tip, she felt him purposely rub it between her folds, drool from his maw trekking down the flexible metal of the tongue and into her slit for a few seconds before the tip left as well, the cycle starting anew.

As much as she wished that she could, she could not deny that his mouth was talented in the way it hit every delicious place at the meeting of her thighs - a few times she almost arched upwards to get even more. Her body was starting to tingle with the strength of an only slightly familiar emotion:  _arousal_. Each powerful lick that made her rub in place against the berth was making it harder for her to retain control as the tongue lavished her with wonderfully strong friction around and upon her slit.

Megatron rumbled, consciously vibrating the little femme before him as he lapped. Every femme had a unique taste but the flavour of the lubricant upon his glossa was unlike any he had had before. He was producing more oral lubricant in response to the tang of his mate, the overflow making its way down to her body with each pass of his glossa. But he knew there was one spot that he wasn't hitting. If he could only work his way further in-between her petals…

Eleaniris had observed the heightened flood of chemical drool herself, coming to the sad, dreadful conclusion that he liked what he was tasting and was  _salivating_  in response. She felt like a piece of candy that was being savoured before being consumed. Each flick of the tip when it left her threw splatters of it on her faceplates, making her grimace and eventually cover herself with her servos after it became too much.

That was when he crushed something very sensitive with the tip in one of his fervent licks.

Her servos flew off of her face and went to the berth to try to grab instinctively at sheets that did not exist. To her horror a moan left her gaping mouth, loud and clear for Megatron to hear as her back arched upwards and her optics brightened, her valve clenching and unclenching of its own accord. An unfamiliar tension was cropping up in her belly and something was seeping into her passage, something from  _herself_. She had never felt like this before, but then again she had never engaged in this prior.

Megatron purred lustfully, observing her reaction to his attentions upon her sensitive outer node and catching the movement of her port. Grinning darkly at his mate, he crushed it again, this time moving his glossa around a little to rub it powerfully. She howled and clawed at his berth, her frame lifting a modicum to drop back down again and another tiny gush of lubricant from her little port coated a small spot on his large glossa.

Just the reaction he had been aiming for. He repeated it once, twice more, reveling in the taste of her juices and trying to swallow every drop between licks. Eleaniris was less thrilled as at her reaction, shivering in disgust between shudders of delight as he  _ate_  what should have been barred from him. Ah, but nothing could stand between Megatron and the object of his desires; she had said as much to him in the throne room, hadn't she?

She had told him that the universe was ripe for his picking, that he could swallow it whole if he desired. Here he was, having plucked her from her vine, now swallowing her whole.

Megatron pulled away to admire his Queen, gulping the remnants of her lubricant on his glossa and hovering over her to look at her properly, listening to the buzzing of her tiny fans as they worked hard to clear away the heat from her body. His optics moved from her chassis to her belly and his vocaliser emitted a displeased growl. Most of his lubricant had dried from the heat of her frame, and that vexed the primal coding slowly taking over his processor.

Eleaniris had stiffened upon hearing the reverberating growl, freezing like a deer in the headlights at the dark look and narrowed optics of his faceplates. In a blur he shot down and gave her sopping wet licks that re-drenched her in a torrent of warm slime. Her scream came out as a squeak as his glossa passed over her faceplates in its full-body lapping. She shuttered her optics and closed her mouth but still gagged on the mouthful of drool she had caught - there was no choice but to swallow the thick, chemical-tasting goop.

No less than five licks later he stopped, rising again to admire his handiwork and purring at the mess of a femme underneath him. She watched him back, white optics wide as she waited for his next action. She had no idea what he was going to do to her next, and her spark thudded in her chassis with anticipation.

She hated the fact that she loved what he had done to her. His tongue with its beautiful friction between her thighs that warmed her belly despite her disgust, his gifts and roses and attention that no human man had even bothered to give her - all of it was turning her on, even though she did not want this. But he was her everything now, and she had no choice but to give him herself so that her people might be free.

He removed himself from above her and unsubspaced his cuff, glossa swiping at his lip components to clear away her taste and some of his own oral lubricant. Unceremoniously he snapped it on and set the sizing, hitting a few buttons on the display and shrinking down to her size at long last.

She had propped herself up on her elbows, staring up at him and shivering in the wake of his attentions while he stalked towards her, licking his chops triumphantly. Megatron knelt between her still-open legs and probed her with a digit around her opening, measuring her slickness for a nanoklik before removing himself. He made eye contact with her innocently wide optics and made sure that she was watching as he licked her essence off the tip of his claw. She gaped at him and he chuckled, smirking at her lovely, adorable faceplates.

Eleaniris shuddered in disgust as he settled himself between her legs and kissed her again. In a sudden burst of self-will, she tried to scuttle backwards on her elbows only for a huge servo to land with a clang on her stomach, completly covering it and pinning her in place with its undeniable strength. He was making it clear that she wasn't going anywhere, and the servo stayed there as a reminder of his power to control her as he continued his kiss.

Megatron made it long, affectionate, and rather chaste for its location, the kiss several nanokliks long before he pulled away and again cleansed his lips of the sweet nectar of his precious flower. She was ready for him now, and his fully pressurized spike was throbbing painfully behind his panel. Her honor, as she had said, was his to claim. The seal that he knew lay just inside of her opening was his to break. The port before him was his to ravish and the gestation chamber beyond his to fill with transfluid and sparklings.

And he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

The Decepticon tyrant sat back from her again, lowering his servo to his groin and removing his pelvic armor. He set it aside and out of the way before touching the burning-hot metal of his codpiece. Expertly he undid the latches and placed the metal beside the outer covering, proudly baring himself to the gaze of his mate with a vent of relief at the absence of tension. Eleaniris felt a whimper die in her throat as she set her optics on what he had just uncovered, her jaw falling open as if the hinges had broken. One thing was for sure.

He was not using his huge fusion cannon as compensation for  _anything_.

* * *

As agreed, the sparring mechs made their way outside for the fight. Neither wanted to be punished for inevitable damage to the library should they carry out the Challenge in there. Talia came along in Skywarp's grasp, refusing to look at let alone speak to Shockwave.

The scientist made a mental note for himself to punish her when he got her back. He would not have his mate flirting with other mechs whenever she desired -  _he_ was the Dominant, she the Submissive.

The night was dark with only a sliver of Earth's moon present in the sky above. They picked their way carefully through the complete areas of the Garden closest to the palace and onto the barren ground beyond. Talia was set down and she scurried away, still behind Skywarp but enough distance between them that she could stay out from underneath their pedes. A dread was filling her stomach at the thought of Shockwave using Driller to slice and dice Skywarp like a ripe tomato. She hoped that she could take control of his pet should that happen.

Skywarp activated the guns on his arms, glancing back at the femme behind him one last time to remind himself of who he was fighting for. The scientist could guard his back well, and to use his teleportation gift effectively the other's guard had to be down.

Shockwave shot first, as the defending mech, his cannon arm aiming well and quickly. The processors in Skywarp's helm quickly computed the trajectory and he jumped out of the way, wanting to save his scant Energon for the teleportation at the end and dazzle Talia with the unveiling of his skill. The blast singed the armor of his left arm and he ignored the damage notifications on his internal display - they were all superficial and Talia could repaint the armor later after he came out victorious.

The purple Seeker fired his own guns, taking shots and moving away from Shockwave to throw off the others aim as they circled, their pedes kicking up the soft dirt carelessly. Shockwave ducked them expertly, dodging forward. Talia stifled a cry as he shot without warning, hitting Skywarp in the chest with a blast that threw him off his pedes and backwards. Tired of this fight already and seeing it as a waste of his time, Shockwave called his pet.

With a squeal it surfaced nanokliks later, throwing up a shower of dirt from where it had revealed itself from beneath. Skywarp sprung to his pedes from where he had fallen, flaring huge wings and snarling with gleaming fangs at the beast. He firmly believed that he could win this Challenge, and the appearance of the worm did nothing to change that.

Shockwave spoke to Driller, ordering, " _Finish him off."_ To Talia he sent a warning look,  _Do not interfere or there will be worse consequences._ She had reacted well to such glances before: when she was starting to annoy him in his lab with her consistent chatter, when she got too curious about his classified projects, when she tried to say that it was only logical to believe that logic did not work perfectly with illogical beings. Why should he distrust something that had worked flawlessly before?

Talia shivered at the underlying message that that single, harsh red optic was sending her, but shrugged it off. She wanted nothing to do with that monster, and she was not going to allow him to pin her any longer. She wasn't  _his_  and didn't belong to him, and so she smirked smugly at him before calling to the murderous animal, "Driller, it has been long since I have seen you."

The blades powered down, eventually coming to a halt. It was looking with an opticless face between her and Skywarp indecisively. She continued in her quiet, soothing feminine tone, "Why don't you come and see me?"

Shockwave immediately barked, " _Continue with initial order."_ Talia called again, "I've missed you." Driller looked back at its master and then at her, succumbing to the comforting voice instead. Skywarp watched, transfixed, as the huge beast bypassed him to greet Talia, thrumming as it went.

Shockwave was, as well, caught off guard that Talia had not listened as she had been conditioned to. Before she had followed him obediently, obliging his every order. It appeared as though he had miscalculated. Talia stroked and cooed at the worm, smiling as it leaned into her touch and pressed fatal blades that could shred her like paper into her delicate palm.

Skywarp took his chance, tearing his gaze away from Talia and charging, teleporting behind the agape scientist and shooting him point-blank in the back. He caught Talia's gaze, her jaw hanging open loosely at the display, to say to the fallen cyclops triumphantly, "Teleportation, moron." (AHM)

Just as the Seeker powered his cannons for a final shot through his helm, Shockwave said hastily, " _It would be unwise to kill me."_

" _Explain."_ Skywarp snarled, still keeping his guns on standby should he try to pull any tricks. Talia was his now - the indisputable results of this Challenge proved so - and any attempts to get her back would be met with equal force.

" _I am indispensable to Lord Megatron. The only logical reaction to my offlining would be to punish you and, perhaps, the femme."_ Slag. He was already in a bad-enough position with his Emperor - he didn't need to rack up more offenses.

" _Surrender, then. Accept the result."_

" _The femme is yours."_ Shockwave said impassively, already tallying up his losses. They were not much; any femme would do to give him his sparklings, and Talia had hardly been the best candidate. This planet was teeming with available human females, and should he pick one with a human mate it would be easy enough to kill it and then take the femme. Human males, no matter how strong for their species, stood no chance against a Decepticon. " _The Challenge has been won by the challenger."_

Skywarp stepped away, looking at Talia and calling "Come, Squeaker."

Talia walked away from the Driller, who followed dutifully until she said sweetly, "Be a good boy, Driller," and then harshly with a hateful look at the defeated Shockwave, "Go back to your master." With that she went to Skywarp who picked her up, cupping her against his chassis protectively.

They left the injured scientist and the dumbfounded beast in the dim light of the moon and dark dirt of the unfinished portion of the Gardens, Talia smiling up at her Seeker and forgetting all about the tormentor of her race.

He had gotten what he deserved.

* * *

Megatron noticed her shock immediately, chuckling at the familiar reaction to his spike. There were an extreme few that had not displayed some semblance of surprise at his size, be it a reaction as small as widened optics or as large as a gasp and an exclamation. Eleaniris did not disappoint him.

Unbeknownst to him, Eleaniris had seen plenty of spikes during her time with Starscream's horde. She knew what they were but Megatron's had been the fullest size she had seen yet, both in girth and in length. It appeared also to be studded with small bumps and ridged lengthwise with protrusions.

_"What do you think of my improvements, precious?" The party to celebrate her Coronation had just started, and she was sitting, shell-shocked, in his lap._

_She had peered up at him, stammering, "W-well, I think that they make you look bigger, more impressive maybe..."_

_"Good," Megatron had growled, "They were made with you in mind, as well as a few other alterations that you have yet to lay your optics on."_

She gulped with horror though her port clenched in anticipation. Desperate to distract herself, she wrenched her gaze away from his valve-wrecking rod and looked up at him to stutter, "I-is  _t-that_  one of your a-alterations?"

Megatron nodded, looking down at himself and back up at her, primarily lust and pride, but also that mysterious emotion, glimmering in his optics. "Indeed." He set a servo on her right thigh, thumbing a circle on the inside of it and smearing around some of the lubricant there.

"But I assure you that the size is not artificial." He slid his servo up slowly, expertly, until it was resting underneath where the leg met her hip. She quivered and he smirked in response, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it, "I merely…  _enhanced_  a few things." Megatron continued to thumb her inner thigh, quite pleased with the amount of oral lubricant he had dumped on her and even more so with how much she smelled like him.

After a weighty pause he went on, "I believe I omitted a few bits about our anatomy that you should know, Eleaniris." She bit back a reply about how she had learned them from Starscream's thugs but kept quiet, glad that he was doing nothing.

"This, my dear, is my spike." He gestured to his erect rod, "it makes me a mech and, in this case, your Dominant." Eleaniris kept her mouth shut and he went on oblivious to her anger. "The port," he tapped her valve lightly, "is common among most mechs and all femmes."

He adjusted himself over her, spike brushing over her curves as he placed his forearms flat on either side of her helm and gingerly rested his lower half on top of her, careful not to crush her. Despite his smaller size, he could easily pulverize something if he wasn't mindful. Eleaniris merely grunted at the weight on her hips and legs, but mainly reacted to the disgusting feeling of his impressive spike poking her belly. It felt like a hot poker fresh out of a fireplace, and the throbbing was so strong she could feel it in her abdomen. She forced herself not to look down but instead at his face, currently suspended above her chest.

"What about i-impregnation?"

He chuckled lowly, kissing her on the cheek as his spike pushed incessantly against her, "We'll discuss that later. For now," he rose his hips and she gasped in relief at the absence of his weight, "I take your seal."

Eleaniris panicked, her mind numb with both reluctant arousal and sharp horror at the prospect of him putting that  _thing_  inside of her. She was about to lose her virginity to a monster, and never had she regretted not getting rid of it until this moment. She had been saving it for a marriage that never came - in her metaphor, a prince charming that never rescued her. It was just her and the dragon now, and the beast was tired of waiting.

" _P-Please_ , n-not like th-this." She implored him, hopelessly distraught. " _ **Please**_."

Megatron's optics softened a modicum at the sight of her scared white orbs and the sound of her pleading. "There is nothing to fear from me, Eleaniris." He bent and kissed her again, "I'll be careful. Soon your port will be nice and stretched out."  _And ruined for any other mech,_ he thought smugly, though his tone was as reassuring as he could make it,  _by the time your port is able to take my spike easily, it will be too late for another mech to give to or receive pleasure from you._

Megatron went back down, shifting only slightly to lower his spike to her folds. He rubbed the head delicately against and around her entrance, getting himself slick. Pre-transfluid had helped lubricate himself, but he was taking no chances with his sparkmate's port.

Oh.

Eleaniris had squeezed her optics shut, trying in vain to go to her happy place as he grunted and rubbed himself against her. It was going to happen and her body tensed in anticipation of his first thrust. She wished -  _how_  she  _wished_  - that there was someone else to imagine in Megatron's stead, that she could pretend another man was ravishing her.

But there were none.

When his brutal, forced entry did not come she onlined one optic cautiously, finding a pensive Megatron poised to enter her with one shove. Instead he settled back again, coming up and smothering her with the hefty weight of her lower half and his spike again prodding her belly. "There is one thing we must do first. One last part I must explain to you."

His chest plates slid apart, the protoform and the armor covering it moving so that she saw the powerfully thrumming red spark that bathed her in its light. "This is my spark, precious Eleaniris. It controls the functions of my frame similar to how a human heart would."

"You are my sparkmate, Eleaniris, in humans' words a soulmate." He touched her cheek with a steady finger, and smiled gently, "We were meant to be."

 _No! This is all wrong!_  Her mind  _screamed_  its denunciation, but the words never left her mouth.  _None of this was supposed to happen!_

"Allow me to see yours, Eleaniris. Open your chestplates for me." She did as he ordered, parting the protective plating though not understanding what was about to happen.

Megatron gasped at the sight of her white spark, the purest color he had ever seen. Circuitsia's he had never seen - he had never had the chance to bond with her as he was about to do with Eleaniris. "My sweet Queen," he murmured and leaned closer to peer inside, touching its casing with a careful claw. She shuddered at the unwanted pleasure she received as it flowed from his touch.

Eleaniris fought the urge to cringe away as his optics flared with anger and his faceplates hardened with greed and malice.  _However did you get this?_ He asked himself, locking his gaze upon the legendary Matrix of Leadership.

There it lay, thrumming with power inside of his mate's spark chamber. He narrowed his optics and inspected it, studying how it was lodged hopelessly in the bunches of cabling behind her spark. The only way for it to come out was for him to rip it, along with the vital tubes, wires, and cables, right out of his Queen's, his Empress's, his  _sparkmate's_  chest.

The Primes watched, servos clenched in nervous anticipation. Had they miscalculated? Had Circuitsia been mistaken? Was this the correct decision to make? Had they just handed over the means to subjugate the universe unopposed to the very Emperor of Destruction himself?

Megatron didn't need Knockout to tell him that the action would kill her - he knew that obtaining the Matrix would cost her life. But so long as he had her, he had the Matrix; that was good enough for him. "You've done the impossible, my dear Queen." He murmured and kissed the edge of her spark casing, eyeing the object of unknown power that lay inside of her. He licked the edge of the silver trim when he finished the kiss and they moaned, she in pleasure wrought from his touch and he at the sweet taste of her chamber.

The deceased Primes relaxed upon seeing this but were nonetheless amazed; they had just witnessed the impossible, had just seen Megatron spare the femme that stood in his way. The Matrix was, indeed, safe with her. The sparing of her spark showed them all what she meant to him and told them that Megatron was going to protect her - and the Matrix itself.

"You have surpassed your own preciousness, beautiful. A worthy Queen you are indeed."

Unceremoniously and without warning he smashed their lips together, the action also bringing together the sparks that had been pining for each other for so long. If one had been looking up at the windows of the palace, they might have seen a brief flash of brilliant pink light that put the shine of the sun to shame. However, the light came and went unseen, just as many beautiful things had on Earth.

What followed was far from what either of them had expected.

Elsewhere, beyond the veil that separates the world of the dead from that of the living, Circuitsia stood alongside Eleaniris' family and friends. "Do you think it is going to happen? What you said might happen?" The femme looked at the Empress' mother, concern and worry written in her eyes for all to see.

"If it doesn't, you all had better prepare for an influx."

The Autobots still awaited an opening in the Decepticon defenses, none of them guessing that they were too late.

Far, far too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really expect reviews on this chapter for… obvious reasons. Thank you all anyway!


	66. The Optics of the Beholder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. 
> 
>  
> 
> Mentions of abuse, violence, prostitution, brainwashing and overall edginess and other dark topics.

There was no pain when he had slammed their sparks together. Though her tortured mind had screamed at her that he was doing something that could be permanent, her spark only radiated peaceful, jubilant satisfaction - the kind one gets from putting the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle.

Only, for Eleaniris, there were way too many pieces missing from the puzzle.

When their sparks clashed against each other, she ceased to see. Her optics had been wide open, staring up at him as he had uttered those very confusing words and inspected her spark chamber. She hadn't even been able to start thinking about what he was speaking of. As soon as their sparks touched each other, she was somewhere else.

This room was as black as Purgatory had been white. It stretched onwards without end, the source of light from above but not really above. It gave her the creeps, especially since she was standing over a deep, wide trench that had no visible bottom.

A grave? She didn't know. Not until the water started coming flowing from her right.

A great bubbling and crashing froth of water soon filled the trench, continuing on its journey through the endless room and going out of sight to her left.

When she looked down upon the riptide, she began to see images flashing through it. They looked almost like holograms, cast into the water from an unknown source, and that was what she supposed they were as they flashed by so quickly, a mural of color, light and dark.

She came down on the sloped bank to the water, suddenly feeling very parched. The river looked so clean and cool, she could not resist reaching out to touch it with a hand.

Not a servo.

A  _hand_.

She nearly lost her footing and would have fallen into the surging waters should she not have spun her arms. Looking down upon herself, Eleaniris realised that she was completly human: skin, flesh, and bone.

A joyful cry tore itself through her dry throat and past her chapped lips, making her wince despite her great happiness.

Every breath was becoming a burden and felt like harsh sandpaper as it came through her arid windpipe. She hastened toward the water, her tongue beginning to feel more like a piece of rubber, and cupped her hands to scoop up some of the liquid.

An image was in her generous helping, but Eleaniris did not bother to notice that or the fact that no water was leaking from her hands as it normally would, even with tightly closed fingers. She simply drank deeply from her restored hands, enjoying the taste and feel of water after having had Energon for so long.

As soon as she swallowed, Eleaniris' vision cut from the strange river to another, much unhappier place.

_It was dark still but there was very little light where she was. The acrid odor of chemicals and sweltering heat surrounding her in a hot, unpleasant blanket._

What am I doing here _, she wondered to herself,_ I have never been here before.

_She looked down at her hands - not of her own will - and saw strikingly familiar, heavily scratched, dented, and clawed servos. Experimentally she tried to move them, but they went in the opposite direction of where she had wanted them to go._

_Her legs started moving without her command, taking her outside. For what purpose or how she knew where she was going was not kno-_ A speech,  _her mind thought bizarrely and with an internal voice she did not know,_ I wonder what it is about.  _The vision ended abruptly, bringing her back to where she was._

Even in her present state of shock she realized what was going on.

She was seeing Megatron's memories, flowing past her in a torrent of raging water. Millions of years of information was passing her by, all of his life brought into a huge river that moved faster than she would have thought possible. She had been inside his mind, hence the much deeper internal voice and first-person perspective of his servos.

She watched the churning water and mulled over her options,  _You might learn something beneficial or harmful. It does not seem to be up to you what you see._ Her curious hands went down and scooped up more water with yet another image, again pouring it into her thirsty mouth. She kept her mind blank and allowed his memory to take over, being vigilant for any of Megatron's thoughts and emotions. If she had just damned herself to a whole life with him, she might as well try to learn some more while she had the chance to root through his head.

_Again he was going through a dark tunnel, this time holding a shimmering purple pickaxe that buzzed with energy. His former curiosity had mostly ebbed to be replaced with anger and irritation, the kind that came from something being repeated far too many times. He was being interrupted yet again and he did not need to take time out of the mine where he was earning meager Energon rations as it was._

Another speech,  _he had growled mentally,_ another waste of time.  _It hinted at memories that had passed her in the river, but from where she was now she was limited to this one. Only a limited amount of knowledge was available in his head attached to the memory, but she sorted through it regardless. Most of it was quotas, but she did find one interesting piece of information._

 _The Senator Decimus was there to initiate an assembly of the miners from this Energon mine. Megatron had not told her that he had been a miner - this must have been a very, very early memory._ But what of his childhood memories? These seem to be in chronological order but… what happened?

_She had no time to mull over her questioning as the tunnel from the elevator ended, Megatron taking his stance in the crowed before the podium. It was a nondescript hall, built of silver metal and featuring purely functional wires and cables as the main decor._

"As you know, the hub has been facing challenges,"  _the Senator's Cybertronian was a smooth baritone, cool and collected,_ "and as always, we seek to streamline in every way that we can."  _Eleaniris felt her hackles rise at the tone, detecting a hint of "practiced politician" that she had tried so hard to avoid in her own speeches._

 _It seemed that this mech - whom was not elected, based on Megatron's subtle knowledge embedded in the memory - did not care enough to make such an attempt. "_ You can rest easy, the Senate thanks each and every one of you for your contribution. Your hard work here is at an end."

 _There were smiles around him, grinning faces of hardened mechs of Megatron's size and stature. Another piece of information was gleamed from his memory - they had all be sorted here because of their size in accords with a caste system._ "That's right, for all of you,"  _the Senator encouraged,_ "this will be your last cycle working on orbiting mine C-12."

"I know that this has been like a home to many of you. The Senate will help you find new homes - and new assignments!"  _The crowd around her was starting to grow agitated and both Megatron and Eleaniris sensed falsehood in the mech's warm tone. Another Cybertronian discreetly stepped forward, carrying a shield with a red symbol akin to the Decepticon one but more bulky. A security guard._

"The Senate takes care of its people."

"There's still fuel in this mine."  _Another miner, one with blue optics, spoke up._ "It's not dry… y'all at the Senate know that, right?"

"Oh… that's right, hmm. For sure - we've tracked this location and it's absolutely no fault of the mine itself. I assure you -"  _Evidently that was all the other mech needed to hear from the Senator, for he burst out in both a reply to Decimus and an announcement to his comrades._

"Then it's  _ **automation**_."  _The word sparked murmurings in the crowd and immediately drew Eleaniris' sympathy._ "Moving in yer damn installation and Sentinels to get this place runnin' cheap - ain't it?!"

 _The Senator tried to calm them, holding up his servos,_ "Now, now, I assure you - such hearsay-"

 _The blue-opticed mech was having none of that and interrupted with a furious and frantic outburst._ "Y'all know how this works! Them greedy parasites are automatin' mine after mine! Y'all know what I'm talkin' about! None of ya are here because of the  _ **good times**_!"

"There's plenty of fuel to go around, yet most of us  _ **here**_  are damn near  _ **running on empty**_!"  _Megatron's agreement was starting to register, and Eleaniris had to begrudge them her support as well. "_ And now you want to  _ **kick us**_  out and shake our paws and have us say  _ **thank you**_?!"

 _The guard she had seen approached the ranting mech, who continued nonetheless "_ The Senate will  _ **take and take**_  until they're told to stop! Until they're  _ **made to stop**_!"

_The mech was beaten down over the helm, blue electricity crackling over his frame and paralyzing him, making him fall to the ground and he was beaten down. The Senator continued to try to reassure and calm the now raging crowd, but Megatron was having none of it. Before Eleaniris knew it he raised his arm and swung the axe he had been holding, hitting the Senator in his right shoulder. He fell back and cried out in pain, hitting the stage with a crash._

_The crowd became a mob, and Megatron was the first to get to the mech that had downed the miner. Fury crackled through his circuits and Eleaniris held her breath in dread for what was going to happen. Thoughts of murder crashed through his helm in disorganised chaos as he tackled the slightly smaller mech to the floor._

_She felt his face twist in a smirk as he looked down and commented, "_ Heh. Blasters!"  _Megatron swatted the weapon aside, out of the guard's hand. The pinned mech retaliated by grabbing Megatron's helm in his servos, trying in vain to keep him away._

_Megatron roared, fury making him like a rabid dog, and raised both of his own servos to smash in the mech's helm like a rotten pumpkin. Eleaniris shuddered at the experience of his strength that caved metal and splattered Energon like nothing - it was like nothing she had ever felt._

_A moment or two passed as the mechs around him rioted while Megatron climbed down from his furious high. Eleaniris blinked, feeling the remorse come through as the anger left._ What?,  _he was thinking in staggering realisation._

What… did I… No. Oh no.  _Megatron's intense regret at killing another threw Eleaniris for a loop. The memory ended there, with him looking over the dead guard's body._

Once again she was standing on the bank of the memory river, shock present in her processor.  _He acted like he had never… killed before._

 _Because he hadn't._ The knowledge felt old but a second ago she had not known that. It was new but felt as though it had been in her head the whole time, like something she had known since her birth.  _Now I am getting new knowledge about his past?_

Her curiosity eating away at her, she again drank from the river.

_Time was being skipped in his memories. When had he gotten to this gladiator arena? What had befallen the Senator? Had he been caught? Had he run to this place? Where were they anyway?_

Kaon.  _Eleaniris started at hearing this in Megatron's internal voice. Was it listening to her, or had she somehow summoned the knowledge?_

_The memory was short and brutal. Megatron and the other mech brawled with hard blows, allowing her to feel firsthand the pain of a hit, the scary amount of strength Megatron was packing in each swing, and the anger and hunger for fuel that pushed him to do this. He was starving, and she actually felt for him. This was… a tragedy, nothing less than a horrible occurrence that no one deserved to live through._

_He changed modes, providing her with the gut wrenching sensation of transformation, crushing his opponent beneath him within an inch of the other's life. The mech screamed and she cringed, seeing how his optics flared painfully._

_Another pang affected her heart when she saw him hesitate, in the end, to do as the crowd asked of him. They were calling for the kill, the mech in charge of the arena shouting for him to finish it. She witnessed his recollection of the dead guard, his guilt and pain at killing another of his race._

_Reluctantly, morosely, he finished what he had to do._

She gasped, new knowledge filtering into her brain. The clip she had seen in the library had shown her a very different Megatron - or Megatronus, as he was called then.  _How many fights did he have to live through. How often did he have to kill?_

_How could their government allow this?_

She instantly regretted the memory she plucked up from the river next after she had taken a few minutes to recover from the shock, only to witness another horrible facet of his past. She should have expected it - Kaon was a horrible,  _horrible_ place in the first instance. Besides, the gladiators must have been like pop stars to the wealthy femmes there; naturally they would, as some young women on Earth did after a concert, sleep with their cultural heroes after they triumphed in a match?

Nevertheless, Megatron shoving himself into a keening, high-class femme was not something she had wanted to  _see_ , let alone  _experience_ herself. And the fact that he was  _paid_ for it - she felt so bad.

Eleaniris took several more minutes to recover from what she had just seen and was more careful when selecting her next memory based on the provided images. Once she had deemed one safe, she consumed the water.

Minutes later, she emerged more wise about his past. She had to admit that he was a great orator, despite his apparent lack of education because of his caste status. When she had seen him giving a speech to the other gladiators of Kaon - after he had taken control of the arena - he had woven words in a delicate pattern that some of her Harvard classmates would have wished to do themselves.

Soundwave had been in the crowd too, listening in. She had done the question-answer thing and found out that he, too, had been a gladiator.

He had rallied them with anger, taken opportunistic advantage of their commonalities and suggested that they band together, that they "take what was theirs."

They did.

Riots had grown and grown, the under class rising up in a revolt against the higher castes. Eleaniris found herself filling in a few holes with her own knowledge from Megatron's provided history datapads. The Senate, fearing for the worst and knowing that they could not make a martyr out of Megatronus-turned-Megatron, appointed him as head of their military forces. Eleaniris could spot their mistake right from the get-go. You don't feed stray dogs and cats; that is a sure-fire way to get them to come back, looking for more.

Same as in how one should never try to appease a crocodile, because he will just come for you last.

_The Lord Protector was going to his office, well-aware that he was going to be there very early. That was the plan - he was not about to work on overthrow schemes during business hours, when a Senator could easily walk in and see that their "perfectly complacent, ex-revolutionary" was concocting their death behind their backs and under their noses._

_Death was no longer a repugnant stench to be avoided at all costs. Eleaniris could feel that he finally had a sense of control over his own life and, more importantly, over the lives of others._

_When he entered his office, they both shared a moment of surprise at seeing someone where they should not be. Eleaniris braced herself for Megatron's imminent, brutal attack until she saw the grey optics and young faceplates of Circuitsia._

_She had stumbled and fallen upon his entrance, staring up at him with wide optics and stuttering an apology while she hastily gathered her scattered cleaning supplies. "_ I-I beg your forgiveness, my l-liege."

 _She felt Megatron open his mouth to snarl a wicked and biting remark when a steady, small pulse came from his spark. It was similar to the one she had felt when near Megatron, there but definitely not as strong of a yank. Instead he purred, "_ Go, femme. Collect your things and I will forget of this occurrence."

Stupid men,  _Eleaniris cursed him in her mind as he watched Circuitsia's backside leave his private office. There were definite hints of arousal and a yearning to come in early tomorrow._

 _I am definitely not a reincarnation of her,_ she mused, again watching the river flash by,  _I am not shy nor cute._

 _But was that a glimpse of mercy I have not seen since I started this? He left her alone._ She had been uncomfortable with this whole ordeal in the first place - why did she care if Megatron felt mercy or not? He hadn't had any for her people, all of those times she had asked him to leave them alone. It should make no difference to her; a killer was a killer, it didn't matter if they had mercy or not.

_How fast is this river moving, anyway? I have probably seen what, 20 years worth of memories so far? Maybe?_

Another drink from the waters gave her another memory that jumped time.

_The battle raged around them; the cries and screams of mechs, both Autobot and Decepticon, filled the air with a cacophony of the sounds of victory and defeat. Eleaniris had learned to recognize the Autobot symbol as the one that had been on Senator Deciums' guard's shield, and now she did not know whether they were the good guys or the bad guys. Maybe both the Decepticons and the Autobots were evil - the latter could not be good if they were on the side of this cruel system, could they?_

_Megatron had won this battle; she had picked that information from his mind with her practiced skill. However, as he lay cradling the broken body of his one and only sparkmate, Circuitsia, none of this mattered. The Lord was in a position unbecoming of his ever-present aura of dominance and cruelty as he kneeled on the ground, and Eleaniris was held captive as she watched Circuitsia die._

"Do not fear my king. I will return to you, for death can never separate lovers."

_The femme in his lap muttered her words with utmost love before her optics dimmed and spark ceased, and the anguished screams of the warlord blended with the shouts of victory sounding from his warriors. Eleaniris, empathizing with his pain and feeling it herself, shed a tear too. She was innocent, a bystander, a neutral._

_Circuitsia had sacrificed her life to save his because she loved him. She loved him for all of the nights he had cradled her in her recharge, providing her with the comfort of a strong, protective touch. Eleaniris was loathe to admit it, but she could not deny what she was sensing coming from Megatron._

_Love. He loved her dearly, and across the battlefield stood the mech that had killed her._

_Orion Pax, newly named Optimus Prime._

_Hate drowned the fragile sprout of love in his dark spark and Megatron's anger scared her. He shouted after the retreating Prime and his troops,_

"I will avenge her Prime! I will not rest until she is safe from  _ **you**_!"  _The Prime continued his retreat and showed no evidence of knowing what pain he had just caused._

Eleaniris was crying when she left the memory to reappear on the banks of the river. She hadn't imagined that Prime would kill Circuitsia, even on accident.

_Megatron did the same thing with me. He accidentally hit and almost killed me when he was trying to blast Starscream._

_Is that sad or horribly justified and ironic?_

Before this dark river place, she might have said the latter. Now she was not so sure.

Eleaniris sat and pondered it, zoning out and watching but not seeing the images blur by. There was no use going into another memory when she was this upset.

And so she watched the thumbnails and years fly by, what must have been thousands of years going away before she was ready again.  _I don't think I can take much more of this._

"What do you mean you  _lost_ the Autobot?"

_Starscream went flying across the bridge of the Decepticon warship, slamming into the floor and bouncing once like a skipped rock on the surface of a lake before finally stopping a distance away. Eleaniris gaped at the strength of the simple backhand and the feeling of how easy it was for Megatron to flick him that far._

_He had to saunter a considerable distance to reach the gasping plane, whom had flipped onto his servos and knees, sparks flying from places in his armor. She tensed, awaiting Megatron's furious reaction as Starscream tried to explain._

_He crawled backwards on his servos, vainly trying to get away from the approaching irate warlord. The Seeker said something that she could not hear over the sound of Megatron's internal fury, but it must have been something he didn't like._

_One moment Starscream was almost sitting up, and the next he was smashed under Megatron's ped. It didn't matter, in that instant, that her almost-rapist was being crushed under Megatron's weight - she felt pity for Starscream and had to wonder…_

_How often was he beaten this way?_

_Yet, she also felt empathy for him. She had felt, on more than one occasion, that Megatron was stepping on her, grinding her into the floor, making her feel smaller than she already was and slowly crushing the will out of her like an orange being juiced. She winced as Starscream's armor squealed and groaned in protest as Megatron pushed down on the flyer's chest, thinking in fear_ What would it take for him to do that to me?

Something as large as another escape attempt, or is he so close I can set him off with a distasteful remark?

_For the first time in a long time, she was afraid of him. And, to make matters worse, she knew as soon as she woke up from this she was going to get deflowered by this very beast._

_Starscream said something else, because in the next moment Megatron removed his ped and picked him up like a broken doll, dangling the abused mech in front of him and darkly asking for an explanation._

She shivered when it was finally over and found another memory to drink, hopefully one that was a little less brutal.

_Megatron sat looking over his work with extreme satisfaction and sense of accomplishment. He had been writing it since the beginning and now it was complete - his Decepticon manifesto, their code and goals finally immortalised in written form. As a miner he never would have had the time nor the resources to write an autobiography; philosophical writing was reserved for the highest classes, the intellectual classes, the Senators and perhaps, long ago, the Primes. That was the grand irony of it all: here he was, at last able to define functionism at turn it on its head by doing something he never otherwise would have been able to do._

_All he had left to do now was to title it._

_Their war was fueled by the desire for their race to choose their own paths and lives, not be assigned to a class based on one's alternate mode. As soon as the system fell and the Autobots were only a bad memory, then they could have peace once more._

I have it,  _Eleaniris heard him think while she listened quietly to his mindset,_ Towards Peace.

 _Interesting._ Eleaniris wondered about how he had strayed so far from his goal. She understood their war now, and although she despised many of the Decepticon tactics she could not say that he was without cause. In a sense, this Cybertronian way of life was akin to… racism.

She didn't oppose fighting against racism, but here he was instigating that very thing now against the human race. Then again, the Decepticons believed in the rule of the strong, for if each was allowed to choose their own lifestyle, naturally only the most powerful would be able to rule over the masses - it was darwinism.

So, naturally, the Decepticons would enslave the human race.

_How did you take it this far? How could you have fallen from your noble ideals?_

Her mind whispered softly, sadly in realisation,  _You got lost._

Another handful was taken, and another memory was seen.

_The femme groaned as he unsheathed himself from her, only to slam back in with a callous jerk that made her scream. She was nameless, Megatron hadn't even bothered with it. All that was important to him was that she was willing, all thanks to Tarn's team._

A congratulations is in order,  _Megatron grunted mentally while Eleaniris tried to shield herself from participation in voyeurism with brooding over who Tarn was._

 _As it had happened previous times, when she called for the information it came to her._ The D.J.D. was to "thank" for this.  _Eleaniris abruptly stopped the chain of thought when Megatron's mind started feeding her images of tortured victims and a mech whose_ _ **voice**_ _alone was deadly. She quivered in brief fear, her spark calming her despite her reluctance to listen to it as it told her that Megatron would protect her._

 _When she observed it again, seeing how the femme howled with pleasure and her tiny servos came up to grasp Megatron's huge shoulders out of her line of vision that Eleaniris shared with him._ Will I end up like her? A used toy?

Screaming for the heavens to hear?

_With a start, Eleaniris realized that even though she had freed humanity, that did not mean that they would necessarily stay free. She had just signed herself over, and now she had a "bill" to pay for their freedom. She would have to make sure that Megatron stayed happy and sated or else her people could pay for it._

_Reluctant to become a berthwarmer but even more loathe to allow her people to be re-shackled, Eleaniris was sure to pay close attention to what it was Megatron liked. If she gave it to him how he wanted it, her people would be free._

_Even if she was forever a slave._

_And so she watched carefully with a scientific eye how the femme arched and returned thrusts - as pathetic as they were in comparison to those of Megatron - how her lips played with the spike, how her servos had caressed and how her glossa was used. However, it was not as if she had not done those last three things with Starscream's horde._

_She had had plenty of experience with that. This memory just told her that she was on the right track._

She shook her head after the memory had cleared and she had taken her notes, looking down at the water and seeing how it appeared to be moving a little faster for an unknown reason. Thousands of years must have been passing her right now, flashing past at a speed so quick she no longer had the opportunity to at least get a glimpse of an image. Even if all she got was a blur, she could perceive that they were all very… monotonous.

An Autobot insignia on an unfamiliar chassis here, another there - he must have battled them for so long out in space. She hadn't felt like she had seen that much of his memories, but the river was huge both in width and depth. Half a million years could pass by while she was watching one memory, and she would never know.

It was still speeding up, and she hurriedly stepped forward to pluck another up.

_It was cold. So very cold._

_He was frozen completly in the ice, his processors slow and barely able to perceive the world around him. It was black and his hub was down, telling him nothing about his body. He collapsed into another slumber, waiting for something to come._

She had forgotten about him being found in the Arctic. She was probably close now, though, to seeing herself in his memories. Eleaniris didn't know whether she would be able to take that or not. What if she saw something she wasn't comfortable with?

Further, she didn't know if she wanted him to  _prove_  or  _disprove_  her sex slave hypothesis.

The former would show her that he was completly evil, thereby negating all of her emotional confusion but also sentencing her to knowledge of his nefarious plans for her body. The latter, however…

Would only confuse her more. How could a beast as evil as he learn to  _love_? What else could it be? All of those gifts… what else could they be but a sign or affection or a mockery of humanity?

 _He already loved once, though he may not know it himself,_ her heart whispered to her.

 _Shut it,_ her brain snapped back.  _You don't hurt someone you love. You don't_ _ **keep hurting**_ _someone you love._

She must have been right about her hypothesis, because the next she took was thousands of years later…

In New York City.

No,  _Eleaniris mourned, crying mentally as Megatron landed in New York where his subordinates had already started their little party._ Please, stop this now!

_But she had tried to cut memories short before,_ _**especially** _ _those of torturing a prisoner, brutal dismemberment, abusing or sexually reprimanding and dominating Starscream -_ _**chiefly** _ _the latter. It hadn't worked._

_She was sentenced to watching this, feeling his glee as Megatron's circuits fizzled with anticipation like a wolf for the kill. He was in the mood for some revenge, even if the humans that had imprisoned him in the Hoover Dam were no longer living. He didn't care and she could sense it. Why should he have resistance in his "play?" He was the more superior being here - the humans didn't matter at all._

They are the playthings of my will,  _he had growled to himself._

_It had been vorns since he had been able to kill something, anything. He hadn't had the pleasure of de-sparking an Autobot for_ _**thousands** _ _of years. Eleaniris shook her head, dumbfounded as she watched, a helpless captive audience to his slaughter. He knew that they couldn't defend themselves, and he didn't care._

_He knew that the humans were no true enemy of his, not like the Autobots were. He didn't care._

_He knew that his butchering would claim millions, and in the end perhaps a billion. He didn't care._

_He knew that his mechs were not simply killing, but some were also actively torturing - like Astrotrain, the trio that comprised Reflector, Blitzwing. Did he care?_

_The answer was obvious._

_No._

_Dead and forgotten lay his conscience, which millions of years ago might have made him feel deep remorse for his actions, for killing even a single one of the fleshy creatures. He knew that the humans were sentient beings, but they were just weak enough to be considered animals. They could not keep him from their planet, and so it was up for grabs._

_His recovered fusion cannon was an instrument of his anger as he stormed around New York, occasionally firing at the odd building and destroying it, and others in close proximity, with a singular blast. That, though, was after he had allowed the Allspark to cyberform anything within technological those buildings or cars that had been parked or abandoned in the street. He was not one to waste after all._

_But for now, he wanted to plunder and burn the Earth of humanity's influence. Earth was his to rule now, and he wanted it to be wiped of the filth of the human world. They would be enslaved and_ _**his** _ _cities built atop the ruins of_ _**theirs** _ _. They were numerous and easily replaceable - eventually he would mold them into the perfect, servile slaves. Eventually, perhaps a few mechs would start taking pets._

_Though he certainly hoped that never became the trend to where_ _**he** _ _had to get one._

Eleaniris thought that she was going to be sick as she left Megatron's dark musings. This was becoming too much for her, but the thirst was getting worse as the river grew faster.

 _It has to be over soon,_ she tried to assure,  _surely there cannot be much more. And you know what they say._

_If you're going through Hell, keep on moving._

The river was lowering, as if an invisible plug had been pulled from the bottom. It was also slowing, and with greater clarity she could observe the images that flickered within the water.  _If it is even that._

With trembling hands she raised a cupful to her tear-stained face and poured it in, praying in vain for a mild memory that wouldn't anger and sadden her even more. She wanted to see anything but him killing and torturing and destroying, firing that cannon without so much as a jolt coming up his arm…!

She was awarded no such mercy. No kind soul escapes punishment; her only saving grace was the memory's brevity.

_Whomever he was holding was no longer recognizable. The human was so sliced up in the face and bleeding so profusely that there was nothing left to identify him. When his - she guessed, the hair on his head looked short - mouth opened in a scream that chilled her to the core, all she could focus on was his profusely bleeding gums, holes where teeth might have been._

_It was terrible, and it was only worse as she noted how weightless the man felt and how little he looked to Megatron._ Was I  _really_ that small?

 _Am_ I really that small?

 _She shuddered as she saw a claw brush over an arm, adding yet another deep slash to the man's body. He gurgled, his throat probably raw at this point._ Megatron didn't even feel his talon cut through the flesh _, she noticed with fear about his datastreams. He hadn't needed to try to slice, he had just done it like a hot knife through warm butter._

How could Circuitsia ever  _think_ , much less  _tell_ _ **me**_ , that this  **monster** can  _change_?

_He kept doing it again and again as he passed claws over fragile, already-shredded skin. With a disturbing shiver, she realised that he knew nothing about how he was affecting the human and was not actually focusing on him at all. He could sense how other mechs felt around him, without even looking at them, but he was doing no such thing with the human - perhaps it was a Cybertronian emotion thing? Regardless, Megatron was merely twiddling with him in-between his fingers as he contemplated the offered tubs before him._

_To the right, he knew and therefore she did as well, sulfuric acid waited to break down the husk of a human bleeding all over him. Eleaniris narrowed her eyes as she observed Megatron's displeasure at having "organic fluids" on his servo._

_To the left, there was something that looked disturbingly like a meat grinder. He continued passing the human around like a pencil in his servo, contemplating silently as the crowd of mechs waited quietly for his choice._

She remembered how this execution had ended, and before she could delve too deeply into her own memories she distracted herself with the sight of a very low river. The man had not been the best towards his people and had ruled incredibly cruely, but no one deserved to be dropped feet-first into a human-sized shredder.

 _The river is low_ , she reminded herself,  _no more of those thoughts._

 _Maybe try to learn something that could be useful._ She bit her lip, watching the river lethargically pass and half-wondering what had caused the change in speed and depth.  _I can't see his internal display for whatever reason, so I can't know what else my body can do._

 _Perhaps he'll teach me,_ she thought with a snort.  _As if he would_ _ **empower**_ _a_ _ **slave**_ _with knowledge about her own body. All these memories have shown me that he is cruel and manipulative, especially since his own recollections have disproved some of the details of the historic events he gave me in that datapad._

 _Whatever,_ she thought.

The next she picked made her feel very insecure, the way one felt when naked in front of an audience. Eleaniris had chosen it because the image made it look like there was something she could learn from it. That was not to say that there was nothing she was absorbing, no - she had just hoped it would be  _viable_ intelligence.

Not a creepy, stalker-type report about  _her_.

He had everything.

_Her driver's license as front and center when he opened the datapad, but he barely glanced over it before flipping through the stored files for something else. Her Social Security card and passport were there, as were her banking records and tax returns, but these too were skimmed over. He went past health records but copied them for himself, bookmarking them for transfer to the medbay later. Megatron wasn't stopping and Eleaniris sat in silent wonder as he appeared to flip through everything: test scores - SAT, her Law School Admission Test, the Bar Exam - traffic records (though she had only a single speeding violation when she was in her twenties), college and high school transcripts…_

_He looked at everything, though he spent the most time on her shopping records. Soundwave had inserted them so that Megatron could learn her better, but was a detailed Amazon record_ _**really** _ _necessary? Or credit card balances and expenditures, for that matter?_

She shook her head. Megatron had wanted to learn more about his prey. That was all. Of course, she hadn't needed to dig around in his processor to learn that nugget of information. She had just known from the start - why double check?

It wasn't as if he loved her. If he did, it was in the way one adored a trophy.

Not a wife.

If he had cared, he would have set them free long ago. He wouldn't have backed her into such a corner where her only choice was to give him the last thing she had retained - herself.

She scooped up another handful and drank it, guzzling it down in an attempt to quench her undying thirst.

_He came to Soundwave because he was the mech that Megatron trusted the most - or, rather, distrusted the least. Though he was prideful, it was not to the extent Starscream was where it blinded him and cajoled him into believing that he knew everything. Megatron had the sense to know that there were some things he didn't understand. How to handle a human was one of them._

_As one of the few mechs that had a human pet and the only one that had knowledge of Circuitsia's return, it was natural for him to go to his Communications' Officer for guidance._

_Megatron's sole experience with humans had been based on killing them. She chastised herself,_ of course he would have to learn.

_Soundwave had debriefed him on the basics, stroking a contented albeit nervous Grace with carefulness that, with a start she realised Megatron envied._

"All humans require clean water and a variance in fuel to meet their diet requirements, my liege. I have found that mine detests the slave fuel, and instead likes to ingest the more naturally occurring items."  _Soundwave paused, probably to check in on his understanding and continued in professional Cybertronian,_ "Grace here has a preference for apples, and I am sure your own will have her favorites as well, master."

_Megatron, it turned out, knew incredibly little and did not even grasp the things Eleaniris thought the most basic. After Soundwave had answered questions about whether her favorite "fruit" should be her sole food source, whether he should allow her to forage for her own fuel, and if he could use the slave fuel as punishment, Soundwave had moved on with other topics._

"Humans require warmth to keep functioning, my liege. They also prefer to "sleep" in softer places, with special fabrics to keep them warm and, I have hypothesized,  _secure_."

"I believe it is comforting to have many of these coverings, my liege, if that is not a wasted comment."  _He dismissed his subordinate's misgivings, gesturing for the smaller mech to continue as he studied how Grace reacted to having her helm scratched._

"They bathe frequently as well, and Grace is provided with some water and products for use every few Earth days. Eleanor will know how to use them."  _He gave a short nod, observing how Grace arched into the touch and closed her organic optics to tilt her helm back in bliss. Soundwave followed his gaze to Grace,_ "These protein filaments are called  _hair._ Females appear to take pride in caring for them, and they are combed to be rid of tangles regularly."

"My master, there is but one thing I must first tell you of. I do not understand why it is, but it must be a cultural aspect of the humans that they do not wish to be watched while bathing without their external coverings."  _Eleaniris almost snorted when Megatron thought,_ They can remove them? Does it cause pain? "It is a source of shame, though I cannot fathom why."

"There are other cultural aspects, my liege, available on their internet. If you wish I could write a rep-"

"That will not be necessary."  _He sat forward, bizarrely eager (to Eleaniris it made little sense) to learn how to touch a human without injuring it. Soundwave recognised this and dipped his helm, putting Grace on the floor of his new apartment and telling her, in English, to go into another room. He then went to a cabinet door and opened it, removing a plain, silver box._

"It is likely that she will flounder when she is picked up the first time, my liege. Keeping your fingers steady is vital to ensuring that one does not scratch her."  _Soundwave opened the box and Megatron leaned forward to peer inside._

_A dozen pairs of eyes looked up from the confines of the container too small to be carrying their number. It was cramped, no doubt, but Eleaniris took notice of Megatron's lack of attention to his aspect. She was still struggling with how small they looked to him._

_Under Soundwave's guidance he had tried to pick one up only for a claw to slip and slide through a defenseless, soft belly. He cursed and dropped the fatally wounded human back to the table, where it let out a stuttering sigh and quivered, growing lifeless before his optics._

_Two more went the same way, and once he had learned how to control his movements Soundwave had guided him on how to stroke the trembling, confused female, only for Megatron to underestimate his strength and again accidentally kill a slave._

_Three more went until his claw glided over smooth, tan skin without a single mark. Eleaniris would have been hard-pressed to ignore the pride coming from his consciousness, and the satisfaction in his processor for leaving his work early._

"Females relax to low crooning, my liege."  _Soundwave whispered, watching him stroke the still-nervous but more agreeable female. Eleaniris jumped at the sensation of low humming and cooing coming from his vocaliser, and so did the unknown slave in the memory._ "As femmes do."

_He opened his fist sometime later and set the last human alive of the dozen brought to him back into the box. He was quite content that he had learned so quickly, but he knew that practice would perfect his skill. Further arrangements were made, and very satisfied he left behind eleven dead humans and one which would soon be dead - it had witnessed things that could not be taken back to the slave population._

Eleaniris didn't know how much more of this she could take.  _You killed twelve people so you could learn how to pick me up, stroke me, and scratch my head properly?_

She didn't know what to think anymore. She was emotionally and physically exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest. She didn't want to think about all of the memories she had seen or what they meant; the disappearance of the Autobots shortly before he had crashed in the arctic, the absolute control he had over his own, uncontrollable mechs, why he had bothered with learning so much about human culture if he thought it beneath him…

She didn't understand anymore. She just wanted to sleep, but at the bottom of the trench there was a puddle that had caught her eye. It twinkled under the strange light of the place, sparkling clearly and inviting her to take a drink.

She slid down the metal bank of the riverbed and smoothly landed on her bare feet, walking over and crouching to collect some of the liquid in her palms. The image displayed was of the desert around the Hoover Dam, which piqued her interest.

What had happened after she had been hit? Had Starscream escaped?

_He was standing on a slight knoll, watching as the deserters were gathered up. She deduced that Megatron had triumphed when she saw, through his optics, the warships thrumming overhead and the defeated looks of the caught fliers. His pride and masculine satisfaction would have been hard to miss as well._

_Reflector stood at his side, keeping a record for the Decepticon archives. She recognized the trio from his (their?) presence at her own capture and then at her Coronation. The three Cybertronians were certainly eerie with how they echoed speech of each other._ Who actually decides what they will say,  _she wondered._

"Let this be a lesson."  _He looked at Reflector,_ "Rebellions and mutiny does not pay." He's broadcasting,  _She realised._

_When he turned from Reflector and back to the spectacle before him, the stasis-cuffed traitors had been lined up in a single row across from a matching row of followers, all armed with blasters, watching him as if waiting for something. The betrayers to his left, his Decepticons to his right._

_He raised a servo, and the mechs raised their guns and powered them up._

_The servo stayed above, brewing suspense. He knew his power, his control, and was savoring it before it dropped. When it fell, the shots sounded as one. He turned moments afterward, transforming to fly home._

_Eleaniris frowned at the worry flooding his spark._ If he cared, he would have left as soon as he shot me. Not gloated over the sight of his triumph.

She laid down as soon as the memory was over, her body relaxing. She hadn't wanted to see a memory of herself, and she luckily hadn't - the odds had been against that happening anyway, since he had known her for a year while he had lived millions of them. Eleaniris had not wanted to hear his thoughts or feel his emotions about her. She didn't want to know.

But now she was stuck with his beast. The Autobots weren't coming to save her and defeat the Decepticons. Her home was doomed or she was doomed - it was her choice. Reminders of how her price was a small price to pay hardly helped.

_Just pretend that he cares, like with every man before him._

A tear painted her cheek and she cried out for her loss, closing her eyes to give in to the urge to have an "ugly cry." She beat her bare palms against the metal floor with dull slaps whose pain she barely registered. Over and over again she hit the ground, as if it was Megatron himself.

She heaved ragging breaths as her human body convulsed under the stress, her lungs unable to keep up as she screamed in agony, anger, and defeat all at once. She had given her everything, and she prayed it would be enough. Eventually, the gurgling and crashing grew too loud for her screams to drown out.

She opened a reddened eye, catching the wave of images bearing down on her. It was at least the height of Megatron himself and there was no way to outrun it with its speed, no way to climb up the tall, steep walls and out of the pit. She chuckled at the irony of it all and closed her eye, waiting for it to fall on her.

It swept her up with a great strength, swirling and yanking her body around as it drowned her in its depths.

* * *

She could hear Megatron's vents above her, and she kept her optics offlined. She had spent something close to the time of her own lifespan in his memories, but she could feel a slick, wet residue on her body from when he had doused her in drool. It could not have lasted long.

A spike still nudged her belly, erect as its owner braced and readied himself to pound into her. She remembered the strength with which he had fragged the other femmes she had witnessed, how they had ripped and convulsed with pleasure and pain; she hoped her death would be swift or at least that he be quick.

She tensed the cables in her robotic legs and pelvis, turning her helm to the side and clenching her servos. It was going to be painful, but her spark in her open chest fluttered in excitement. Eleaniris wanted to cry, but this was her place now.

If she was a slave to his pleasure, maybe he would not take others. Maybe she could be sufficient if she moaned loud enough, sucked hard enough, and splayed wide enough. She would try her hardest, but could only pray that her hardest was enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some memories come from IDW's Megatron: Origin. Starscream being beaten was lightly based on a scene from Transformers: Prime.
> 
> That's it for the pre-written chapters, peeps! Now you're gonna have to wait for the next chapter, like everyone else on FF.net. *evil laugh*
> 
> Thanks, all of you! Reviews, please! :D


	67. The Eye of the Beholder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

He wondered if it was possible for a mech to overload from excessive masculine satisfaction. First, his Queen had finally given herself to him willingly in his berth. Second, her valve was pristine, perfect, unused and unsoiled by  _human males_  - he would be her first and her last, and he was glad that he did not have to hunt down past partners.  _His_  Empress would be  _his_ , and his  _alone_.

Third, he was going to impregnate her with a sparkling, spill transfluid inside that wondrously flat belly. His young was going to grow in an untainted,  _clean_  gestation chamber, and it pleased him to no end.

Now here he was, his spark connected with hers as they shared energy and wrapped each other in their EM fields. It was blissfully warm, and his vision adjusted to the blindingly white confines. He hadn't known what he had expected to happen upon formation of their bond - maybe a sharing of emotions and overwhelming pleasure - but he hadn't exactly foreseen standing in an endless space of white.

Alone.

A few paces away, sitting innocently where nothing else appeared to exist, sat a simple table. It was nondescript and spartan, unlike the elegant, matching glass decanters and cube it held. They were exquisitely crafted, fragile-looking pieces that piqued his curiosity.

Even more interesting were his fuel levels - a dismal five percent. They had not been that low since he had been pulled from the Arctic ice. Even the humans had been able to keep him above that with their disgusting, insufficient gasoline by pumping it directly into his tanks.

The Energon in those decanters, however, looked  _divine_.  _Too_  divine.

Too experienced to take Energon sitting unguarded in the open but also too empty to go without it, he prowled towards it while keeping his senses on high sensitivity.

No Autobot ambushed him, no human tried a pitiful attempt at capturing or killing him. He was standing before the table in no time, observing the larger decanter and smaller one while taking up the glass cube. Downing the sweet-smelling high grade, which appeared to occupy the much smaller pitcher, into a near-empty tank would be unwise - especially if he did not know what it might actually contain.

He seized the larger one when his scans detected nothing, pouring a tiny amount into the cube. The color was fine upon examination, and seemed innocent enough. Cautiously, he tilted it into his mouth and swirled it, tasting for any contaminants. Curiously, it tasted like the medium-grade, fine Energon he was accustomed to since conquering Earth.

Contented but still wondering about the purpose of this place, he committed the Energon to his intake.

" _Look, Mom!" Disoriented and very taken aback, Megatron was held captive as he registered that he was suddenly in a body very different from his own. His arms felt… weaker and very clumsy. He started when his vision disappeared only to reappear not even a nanoklik later, his optics left feeling… more wet?_

What in the Pit?

 _Pale,_ _ **human**_   _hands were held in front of him, bearing a crude… drawing? He didn't have the chance to get much of a look at it before he was moving with quick, short steps. He shook his helm when he saw brown hair sweep in front of his face, only for one of the hands brushed it away. He was registering the softness of the hair, the muscle contractions and relaxations that allowed him to move, a strange liquid filling his mouth before it was swallowed without command…_

 _He was_ _**human** _ _._

_He stopped, not of his own will, to the side of a much taller human female. She smiled and bent to look at what he was bringing to her, and he jolted when he saw those familiar grey eyes in a likewise familiarly - but differently - structured face._

" _It's beautiful, Ellie." The woman smiled at him, and a rush of pride filled his spark that confused him. "We'll put this up on the refrigerator, okay?" He felt muscles pull and contract in his faceplates in a movement he hypothesized was a smile, and he was far too disoriented to even devote thought to_ _ **why**_   _the paper would be placed on a human fuel storage unit._

" _Okay!" The glossa -_ tongue -  _in his mouth moved and his intake opened and closed to produce the shrill, happy sound. He ran on much shorter legs to catch up to the taller -_ how bizarre,  _he thought_ -  _female._

He shook his helm as the vision abruptly ended, staring at the cube he held in his left servo and the decanter he had in his right. Was that a young Eleanor he had seen? Had he witnessed a life experience from her v _ery own perspective_? Megatron narrowed his optics at the Energon, bringing it to his face and also changing the sensitivity of his optics.

Upon closer inspection, he saw little images floating around in the decanters. So tiny, they had appeared as particles before.  _Memories,_ he realised. Anticipation dominated his systems and without hesitation he poured himself another drink.

He literally held the key to a complete understanding of her in his servo - he wasn't about to pass on knowing his mate better than she knew herself. He could know how to please her, how to handle her, and more how to  _read_  her. He had the chance to see what he had missed out on being locked away in the Hoover Dam. She was too precious for him to ignore this opportunity; she had been unhappy for so long with him, and he wanted to understand what had made her so frightened.

The Emperor took the tiniest of sips to be greeted with another memory.

_This one was old and not as colorful as the last one had been. It was more dull, the edges faded with age. It could not have been old from his perspective of millions of years, but for his forty-year-old femme it was. She had been living a human lifespan, after all._

_Could she have nearly forgotten this one? The image was full of holes- places where the detail was not as refined or completly skipped over altogether._

_There were no emotions at all. She was simply sitting in the back of a car, next to a younger human femmling, with an adult human male driving and an adult human female seated next to him. Her Sire and Carrier,_   _or father and mother as her mind called them._

_The female next to her, however, started making little noises and beginnings of sounds that might have been mangled imitations of words. Annoyance flared across Eleanor's mind and she growled, "Be quiet, Natalie!"_

Her younger sister,  _Megatron recalled. Her Carrier turned around and immediately reprimanded Eleanor for her outburst, lecturing about "patience" for her baby sister. Eleanor bristled but did not speak, looking down at the hands in her lap. He still thought she was simply adorable - could anyone think anything else of their sparkmate?_

_The next memory flowed in seamlessly, and he supposed that there was more than one in the drink he took. This one was just as grey as the last, if not more so. The hands he and Eleanor shared looked bigger, the fingers more spindly and thin, and the arms felt more sturdy. She rapped on the door in front of her with a hardness that betrayed annoyance with repetition. "Natalie, come on! I have to get ready too!" Nevertheless, he was amazed at how much weaker the gesture felt. If he had tried tapping his own fingers against that wooden panel, it would have splintered._

_Natalie emerged, a pout on her face, and Eleanor entered without acknowledgement other than a snippy, sassy "Finally!" before slamming the door._

His mate was simply endearing. He could feel nothing but affection for his sweet sparkmate, especially since she was so much smaller than he was. Megatron smirked at the thought of placing her in his spark chamber after they had sealed their bond and he had regained his ordinary size. It was rumored that sparkmates' sparks would interact of their own will by extending tendrils of energy, and he was all too happy to see if there was any truth to that.

His spark could probably engulf a large portion of her lithe frame, and the idea of holding her close within him sparked great masculine pride and satisfaction.

Nevertheless, he should finish drinking up her experiences and knowledge. Perhaps, since he seemed to be sharing space with her mind, he could root through it for information about her - things so deep she might not even consciously know them. He would know how to construct a paradise for her, a nest in which to birth and raise his sparklings, and Megatron wanted nothing more. He was tired of seeing her so miserable, and ready to vow that she would never be the same way again.

He took another swing from the cube, swallowing resolutely.

Megatron emerged more wise about humans and their physical pain - specifically, Eleaniris' wounds. He was, he realised with a serious expression, very lucky that Eleaniris had not been seriously injured or killed during his takeover. Wilson had done an excellent job of taking care of his little mate.

However, his Queen's bodyguard could not protect her from stomachaches, a broken finger, the itch of a mosquito bite, papercuts - those, he had to admit, had a special kind of sting- and, of course,  _cramps_. He understood those monthly pains now, a bit more than he had wanted to - although, he also knew that his gift of a heating pad had helped her.

Starscream's squeezing, her terror and pain as her ribs had bent under the Seeker's grab had made him glad that the mech was offline, but left him wishing he had made it more painful. Perhaps, shrinking him down and crushing him as the glitch had desired to do to Eleaniris would have been fitting.

Did his Queen even understand that Starscream was no longer online?

 _Maybe I will find out later,_ the warlord purred to himself. He could not stand not-knowing any longer - the ultimate understanding of his mate was literally within his grasp, but he understood that he must take the Energon slowly. He might miss something important if he didn't.

The memories were in no chronological order, but they were related in subject matter - perhaps that was how human memories were organised? He knew that they were not catalogued like a Cybertronian's but more in a messy stack of no order. The human mind was chaotic, but he  _craved_  to know more of it; he hungered for anything that was "Eleaniris."

He consumed more Energon, filling his tanks with fuel and his processor with data. Human taste, he learned, was remarkably similar to his own senses, even if there was no data attached to the odd organic fuel. He was glad that she had probably been happy with what she had been given during her time as a human in his palace, if her memories of the taste of her favorite food were anything to go by. Caesar salad did have a nice, creamy texture.

Megatron could sense that, with every sip, he was seeing entire pieces of her life. The Energon was plentiful, even if there were simply two decanters, but his Queen was young; she had lived far fewer years than he had.  _Could it be possible?_

_Could all of her life be here for me to see?_

He had yet to see himself in her memories, he realised as he drank deeply.

" _How do I look?" The human female spun around in the white garment, displaying herself for Eleanor and the two other females standing by. She was happy, but he did not care to see that. Not when Eleanor's mind was only mildly happy for her and, deep inside, jealousy was her only emotion._

_A matrimonial dress. Observation and careful picking of her mind showed him the importance of a wedding to human culture, and the great symbol it was in her helm._

_He could see Eleanor's young face in the mirrors around the small space, the grey eyes connecting to themselves for a moment and, upon seeing wetness, broke apart. A few times she blinked, and the extra liquid was gone. She returned a smile to the dark-haired femme, "It's beautiful, Karen."_

_It disappeared in a swirl of washed-out color to be replaced again, this time Eleanor's eyes full of even more water that was proportionately more difficult to blink away. She told the happy woman before her, "It's beautiful, Sage."_

" _It's beautiful, Anna."_

" _It's beautiful, Tessa."_

" _It's beautiful, Briana."_

 _More and more tears gathered in each memory, Eleanor's spark deeply wishing for a mate of its own. Every dress Eleanor saw she pictured as her own "dream" gown, every bride as herself._ All of my college acquaintances are getting married, but what about me?

_Briana noticed a stray tear that Eleanor hadn't been able to blink away, her friend concerned. "Don't worry, Eleanor. Someone has got to take you seriously at some point." Eleanor knew, and therefore he did as well, that Briana was trying her hardest to console her. However, her emotional pain at not being chosen, at the thought of her not being "good enough," was too strong for any simple words._

_But his femme was not weak, and she picked her helm up and nodded, smiling through her internal screaming._

You will have a dress, precious,  _he vowed, angry at her suffering but also his lack of foresight,_ I promise.

If that is what you still desire,  _was the stark reminder that filtered through his processor. He watched memory after memory of her sitting alone amongst mated pairs at weddings, her servos steadily growing older and her spark steadily harder. She steeled herself against the cold of a society that placed much value on marriage, but she also waged war with her own desires._

 _She wanted to get married, but she couldn't. Her mind had accepted it as she still sat alone, the idea steadily cementing in her processor -_ brain _. Eleanor desperately wanted to spend her life with a husband, but at the same time lectured herself about conforming to "needless" cultural expectations. She was dividing herself, until she realised what was going on and stopped thinking about it altogether._

_That final awareness solidified itself when she turned her back on her spark's calls for a mate and instead focused on running for President of the United States. She threw her spark out in the cold because of its unfulfillable desires and replaced it with something else, another quest to embark upon, something just as strong and palpable._

_But, even after getting rid of her spark and giving up on her dreams of a wedding, that did not chase away the loneliness in her heart deep in the night or early in the morning. He knew that feeling, he had felt it after she had run away._

_And he was feeling it again, but with her. His Queen felt hopelessly lonely, even as President of the United States and the most powerful woman on that past Earth._

It will get better,  _he tried to tell her but mostly told himself,_ it will get better.

But it didn't.

Though he was by no means unsatisfied that none of the males that she courted actually cared about her, her disappointment was much for him to bear. Her memories surrounding James were particularly potent with bitterness, showing him her vulnerability after her engagement - which, evidently, was a precursor to a "wedding." Wilson had neglected to mention these weddings at all; he would have to revisit his Queen's bodyguard later regarding that detail.

Nevertheless, his spark wrung itself at experiencing her shame firsthand.  _If only I had awoken twenty years earlier, precious._

His next drink continued the pattern of Eleanor's loneliness, revealing to him the concept of this "Valentine's Day." His Queen should not have been left to sit at home with a glass of wine on her own, while the males presented chosen females with flowers and chocolate.  _If you still desire this, Eleaniris, you will have it next time. If you still wish to participate in primitive human culture, you will get your flowers._

The warlord saw her as a Senator - and one not as detestable as those of Cybertron. He learned how she chose her clothing and put pieces of them together to chose an outfit. He watched her sign documents for her home and mastered with her how to clean said home. Megatron had not understood how the females groomed their manes and knew now that he had underestimated the exact number of the different possible styles. He experienced the odd sensation of trembling vocal chords when she sang and the work that went into practicing a piece on the piano.

The annoyance of commercial breaks, slow internet, and trips to the grocery were theirs to share, but so were the pleasures of the feel of perfectly shaved legs, the presence of a friendly dog, the clean sensation of brushed teeth, and the satisfaction of giving a gift someone loved.

His precious flower was unfurling, allowing him to see the patterns on her petals and the delicate colors that constructed them, to feel the texture and fragility. Her life experience was being shared with him to the last drop of wondrous Energon, and every single memory enlightened him about his mate. He saw her at her best, her worst, and the times in-between.

He watched her defend her sister from bullies, with the occasional punch here and there that made him proud, but she was not so strong against her own demons. The other females, especially when she was very young, were needlessly malicious and he didn't understand why she was quick to rush to humanity's defense.

The human world had been cruel to her, so why did she  _love_  it?

Her Creators, at the least, had been caring for her. He had felt her rush of strong, compelling affection when Eleanor's eyes turned to her parents, a deep-seated feeling that she called  _love_. She felt this "love" for Natalie, for her few friends, and for her parents. "Love" made her weep at the funeral at the loss of her Creators, had made her long to see them one last time, to go back and somehow save them from the hiking accident that had killed both of them. "Love" compelled her to mourn her sister's death. "Love" broke her spark when James' true intentions were revealed. The pursuit of "love" made her sensitive; it made her storm out of the house when her mother had probed the topic of marriage too much and made her speed when she was driving to earn her sole traffic violation.

He had had the whole idea of "love" wrong. He had never thought that "love" would feel this way, but he had not lived the "childhood" she had. He had not known his Creators. He had not known a true home. "Love" was an ambiguous word whose meaning he did not understand, not until this moment with his Queen.

"Love" had made him feel helplessly sad over her possible offlining, the same way Eleanor had felt about the death of her parents. "Love" drove him to try to bring the mountains to her doorstep and the stars to her palm. "Love" made him try everything he possibly could to tempt her to return his affection.

He no longer scorned "love;" it was not the weak emotion he had thought it was. He had felt this way for Circuitsia but had dismissed the word, thinking it meant something that it did not. "Love" was stronger than he believed it to be, and no more was it a lofty Autobot ideal.

He loved Eleaniris - he accepted that now.

" _Have you told her that you love her?"_ Wilson had asked. Megatron would be sure to do so as soon as he awoke from this, would be careful to do so from now on when they were alone with no one else to hear of his affection -  _love_  - for Eleaniris.

The lack of memories related to fear and fury - and, of course, himself - had quickly become apparent with every drink he took. He had yet to so much as glimpse her reaction to his awakening.  _Did she know that I had even existed?_

There was only so much Energon left in the decanter. He had already seen most of her life, he believed. He had been with her for everything from childhood board games - her Monopoly strategy was most interesting - through her college and law degrees. All of her was his to examine, her knowledge his knowledge and her experience his experience.

His Queen's presidency was no breeze, and neither was her campaign. Her nickname as "Eleanor the Eliminator" from her budget-slicing time in the Senate had made it difficult - too many parties wanted money from the government. It came back to hurt her in the election, where money drove American politics. Eleanor didn't understand how she had gotten elected, and neither did he. By all circumstances it should never have happened, unless…

Soundwave had might have meddled with the election returns, or she had received moneys she didn't know about. He shook his helm, adamant about focusing on the central matter. He still wanted to see how she viewed him, and all of her memories so far were human. Where were the ones from after her Cyberformation? What had happened to change her mentality about him? What had placed declarations of praise on her lips instead of words of hate?

Had something finally clicked in that little helm that made her understand his intentions? He certainly hoped so, for that meant that they could move on to more  _intimate_  activities. Their bond after it was formed still had to be sealed.

And his femme  _un-_ sealed; how delicious that she had kept it for him.

He poured the remainder of the first decanter's Energon into his cube, which amounted to about a quarter of his glass, and swirled it briefly to view the images. With a smirk Megatron though he saw a red optic in one of the images - himself?

Impatient to find out but knowing that the size of the sip did not matter, he downed the remainder of the medium grade and swallowed with a single clench of his intake.

As he had suspected, the memories that awaited him were of true fear and true fury- the emotions he had only experienced in very, very,  _very_  mild tones on her part so far. These, however, were what she might have called "the real deal."

Shards from nightmares came and went, but there were no true experiences of fear on her part. He was beginning to calm, thinking his presence on Earth might not have affected her as he had thought it would, until one hit him with a force that nearly made him collapse.

_Her legs burned with muscles working past their limits, her veins carrying adrenaline with every pump of her human heart and oxygen from every fluctuation of her lungs. He could feel the dryness of her throat, the desperation of her brain in its fight for survival._

_Wilson was screaming, ordering, trying to keep her safe. This memory had been ingrained in her, the colors so vibrant and bright, every pulse of her heart written for eternity. This was a scar._

_The red optics of Starscream met her gaze when she turned to look behind her, no coherent thought coming through that mind as she skittered into the opening of the drainage tunnel. It was too small for any servos to reach her, and she had to drop to her belly to crawl inside. He felt the brief stab of pain from the skin of a knee being pierced on a piece of gravel, but as soon as she was inside she brushed it off and turned around._

_Soon enough to see Wilson, her last remaining guardian, thrown through a store window. Starscream didn't bother with checking on the status of the human, instead snarling at his Eleanor and coming after her._

_His Queen's face felt wet and her eyes stung when she blinked, but she turned and crawled deeper into the damp drain, mourning the loss of a friend all the while._

_The memories were not in order, for the next one he saw he knew had happened prior to its predecessor._

_She hadn't known that he had existed prior to the attack on the Hoover Dam that had set him free, and she was angry about that. One of the advisors had just told her about the Allspark when she watched him break out._

_He felt his spark flare with pride at how she gaped over his strength when he had torn apart his prison. His chassis swelled at the awe he experienced coming from her mind, but he was concerned with the fear that was beginning to eat away at her insides. Her stomach clenched and her legs tensed until they had locked gazes through the camera feed._

_Something stirred within her, something awakening that could not have been described as anything other than one of the humans' "gut feelings." When he had seen the camera pointed at him and he had gazed into the lense, he too had felt something. Perhaps it had been their bond awakening._

_Time jumped again, this time forwards._

_Wilson had moved her to the bunker, anticipating an attack on the White House._

_She had stood, a unused chair right behind her, covering her mouth with a hand as she watched the live footage of her military trying - and failing - to defend their world from the onslaught of his own. His poor Queen had felt blow after crippling blow that his forces had dealt to hers, and had taken it straight to spark. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to his chassis, cooing and telling her that she would be alright - such a reaction to her distress had become natural since Soundwave had shown him with Grace._

_She was scared to the bone, but fighting not to show it - he had frightened her terribly, but Devastator had made her quiver, even from hundreds of miles away. This, too, was a scar of a memory and not one he had meant to inflict - not that he had meant to scar her at all. It was merely collateral damage, and the dread he felt climbing up her throat twinged his spark. She felt her imminent defeat, but she said nothing of it to the panicked military advisors occupying the room with her. She was silent, drowning in her doom._

_Sound, too, was being drowned out. The colors around her grew more vibrant, the world spinning and every breath hitching in her throat, as her sister was slaughtered before her by none other than Starscream - he knew that coward's back anywhere. The pain felt as if her heart was being ripped through her throat, her intestines being yanked out like a loose cable, her stomach being sliced open to spill its contents._

_He wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't stop her tears, he only wished - for the billionth time - that Starscream had met his end in a much more painful way._

_Then, her fear and agony gave way to a burst of anger. Hate blossomed in her heart for_ _**him** _ _. His spark jolted, not at the hate, but at her distress. He didn't care that she hated him, he was simply upset about her being upset._

_The hate grew stronger as she saw him deliberately draw out her armies, toying with them before he had allowed his own Decepticons to open fire on her comparably defenceless troops. Eleanor hated being played with._

This all changes,  _he told himself,_ this all changes.

_His poor flower wept more tears when she watched him kill her Vice President. The pain was like it had been with Natalie, but worse in that it was dulled. She had escaped, which he was glad for, thanks to the tunnels and thanks to Wilson's foresight with sending out an empty Air-Force One._

_He would be sure to get the bodyguard something special for taking such excellent care of his Queen. Not once had he placed a finger where he shouldn't have, not once had he failed to keep his Empress safe. He could not trust many of his own mechs to be serious like that with such an important task._

The memories flowed seamlessly into his processor, all having been contained in the single swing he took. He pieced together her story from the date of his "Invasion," putting the memories in chronological order while watching her harrowing escapes from his own mechs and the gangs that roamed the wilderness. His Empress felt a loathing for him that ran so deep he was only more curious about what had changed her mind.

She felt her execution nearing, she felt for "her people," the enslaved human race. She hated him so strongly for taking what he could - in his view - and he wondered again,  _Why do you care, Empress?_

_Why do you worry yourself over a people that did nothing for you and everything against you?_

Maybe she had realised this fact later on. Perhaps that had changed her mind.

He narrowed his optics when she met Burns and heard of the rebellious group Nation. She had lied about knowing, it did not matter if she passed up on their offering of leadership of the vigilantes, and the feeling filled him with fury. Then, she had been cornered and caught, his anger turning to concern for his mate as he felt her fear of Starscream.

Her happiness at seeing Susan and Grace called his spark to joy as well - all he had ever wanted was to see his happy. Confusion during the bath merely had him smirking as she scrubbed herself. Her body had leaned while she was on the run, making her form trim with hard groups of muscle - especially in her legs. Her ribs, however, were concerning to both herself and himself. He shouldn't have been able to count them.

Her resolution had nearly crumbled when she had seen him in the metaphorical flesh for the first time. His Queen had been terrified, thinking that her death was imminent, when she had walked through his followers. She had, however, found the space in her lovely mind to gape at his body.

He was glad that his frame "screamed masculinity" to his mate - and that he appeared so  _colossal_  to her. She had nearly been paralysed with fear when he had picked her up, and he was happy to see that his grip was as gentle as he had hoped it would be.

He watched her fear ebb and die over the weeks spent with him. It was not fear, he realised, that had made her hide and cry when he had killed a rebel. It was hate. She had hated him for killing a human in front of her. She had believed him to be a callous and cruel monster. His licking confused her, as had his gentleness.

Anger and hate mixed together was hardly all he felt from her in her memories. The paintings of her in the caves as the "Mockingjay" made him frown, but he supposed it was natural. The humans' sole leader would be painted in rebellion propaganda.

She hated the bikini outfits. A pity; he had thought they looked cute on her. Instead, they made her feel like a display item. He would have to speak with her about that - to his mechs, he had to treat her like a trophy, but between them he wanted her to understand that he loved her.

As they would discuss these "notes" to the resistance effort. If he had to keep her with him at all times under close supervision, he would. He didn't want to take away her freedom, but if that was what it took that was what would be done.

Lennox, Simmons, and Wilson had tried to "rescue" her based on intelligence of her Cyberformation, but she had stayed behind based on a false pretense. Her terror and embarrassment at being pushed nude into a nefarious-looking tube pulled at his spark - his expressions of reassurance had done nothing.

Her last thought had been of confusion and cold hate, for the slaughter and mass enslavement of her people. Of course, he had felt bad that she had thought that way, but somehow he had changed it and for that he was proud. She was happy now, wasn't she?

Megatron reached for the high grade decanter, his claws carefully avoiding marring the lightweight, tiny glass container. It was much smaller than the medium grade pitcher had been, and he wondered if there was any point in transferring the liquid to his cube in the first place. He could have consumed all of it in a gulp anyway.

Intent on finding out what had rectified her hatred of him, he didn't even look over the Energon before swallowing the fine, light, liquid that was just as sweet as her lubricant had been.

He would later regret such a choice.

_They began with her awakening in the tube. He thanked Primus that her memories as a Cybertronian were in chronological order, something he could recognize at last. Perhaps this difference was why they were in a different decanter from her human memories?_

_He was pleased to witness her satisfaction over her changed form, but frowned at her displeasure with being a Cybertronian. She felt as if he had taken away one of the last things she retained, and he merely shook his helm at her misgivings. He had given her better things than the human world could possibly offer - he had taken, but only to replace and improve. Her Presidency had been replaced with a Queenship, her weak human form with a stronger Cybertronian frame, her White House with a palace. He vowed,_ Tomorrow I will show you the Decepticon mothership, precious. Perhaps we can discuss a name.

And then your Air Force One will have been replaced.

 _But my was she a naughty femme. He should have suspected that she understood Cybertronian -_ you are more of a Decepticon than you believe, Empress,  _he thought with a smirk. And to hide that bone in her wrist from him… He would rectify that once this was done. He would pry it out in her recharge and crush it, dusting away the last remnants of humanity from his mate._

_The outfit for her Coronation was intended to make her look and feel beautiful, but instead it gave her the impression that she was about to be shackled as a sex slave. He snorted and growled, narrowing his optics as he felt her fury and sadness - she had even ignored when Grace had tried to say that that was not his intention. She had accepted, instead, that she would always be President of the United States. He ignored the mantra in her head, the Oath of Office he had experienced her taking, and focused on rooting through her mind._

_She was, of course, impressed with his surgery. He noted her liking of the curved spikes on his right shoulder - perhaps he would add some to the other side as well. But her hatred was still there._

_The party had done nothing to numb it. It had only been intensified._ This is war,  _Eleaniris had thought_ , Today, Operation Exodus begins.  _He felt his own expression darken with suspicion._

_He watched himself win some of her with the gift of the daggers, only for him to ruin it as he forced himself upon her in their bath reap her helplessness with his grip. But, she had been worried for her health, that his spike would rip her to pieces. He would accept the compliment to his mechliness and full size. Even as he had tried to redeem himself for her rape, she had felt the strong pulse of her spark trying to yank her towards him, much as his own had done in reaction to her presence and distress._

_His momentary contentedness was offlined as he watched her read the report - written in Cybertronian - on the Autobots and their whereabouts. She even dared to think,_ Nation must know of this. We need to send a message to the Autobots, especially this Optimus Prime,  **immediately**.  _His temper threatened to snap at his Queen's rebel activity. Additionally, he had a feeling about what had been sent from the communications' room._

_And to see her call herself the "Slave Queen," he couldn't shake his helm fast enough. Eleaniris seemed to be dead set on belittling herself - why did she refuse to believe him? The sight of the slaves disgusted her also; defeat, embarrassment, helplessness and hopelessness swallowed her spark and chipped away at his. He still did not understand._

_Eleaniris had never truly been human, her soul Cybertronian as she was a reincarnation of Circuitsia. Her attachment made little sense. The comparison to this story that the rebels were using for cover was also illogical. Why had the humans felt the need to take on a larger story at all? There was no need to use_ The Hunger Games,  _unless… it was like a widespread code, but even that he could not understand the need for._

_That gesture the slaves had displayed to Eleaniris - it had shown support for her acts as a rebel. The humans knew that she was fighting him, and were trying to support her. Anger made his circuits fizzle with energy, and he wondered if he would have been able to smell them burning._

_Her sadness was beginning to irritate him. The despair in her mind as she read the same speech over and over to all of the slave camps they visited was starting to grind his gears. Her rebelliousness, also, was laid bare as she visited the slaves behind his back and encouraged them as best as she could. He was held captive in these memories, but if he could get out and see Eleaniris right here and now…_

_He just might end up killing her for her insubordination._

_But his sympathy came back as he felt her overwhelming fear and helplessness in his palm before his many troops,_ How did we  **ever**  think that we, mere  **humans** , could win? We are hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered, there is no other option but to bow, but to kneel before him and beg for his mercy.  _He didn't want his Empress to beg for mercy from him outside of their berth, and even then he wanted it to be playful._

 _She was genuinely afraid, but again he reminded himself,_ She changed, she isn't frightened any more.  _His excuses were becoming more and more feeble, but the warlord was not aware of this. He was holding on to the fact that she had surrendered in his throne room and praised his strength, position, and fitness as her mate._

_In his mind, he had no reason to worry, though he felt bad for his Empress' sorrow. Especially when she had seen the children in the city being whipped and Lennox smuggling scared and scarred younglings out from the camps around the rising metropolis. Eleaniris may not have realised it, but her Carrying instincts were kicking in full swing when she saw the small humans in distress._

_But, in the middle of it all, she found praise for him. A small piece of her was thankful, even if it was not to him but for her luck with how he treated her._

Megatron has  **never**  punished  **me**  severely. The worst thing he has done to punish me is to kill other humans in front of me. Even then, he "offlines" any of his subordinates that dare to even  **speak** of me in the wrong way. He feeds me and makes sure I have someplace to sleep, even gives me the chance to bathe and dress in privacy. I  **am**  safe, in comparison to them.  _Was this where his precious Queen had decided to change her mind?_

_When she begged for Lennox to take her with him, his spark nearly stopped pulsing. She hated him, still. It was only getting worse. Megatron felt something he had not in a long time._

_The beginnings of panic, stirring within his very spark. He was too preoccupied with that sensation to smirk as Eleaniris received her revenge when he pulled apart a wrongly-accused slave keeper. Her hate worsened when he refused her request and insisted that she recharge, pinning her with a huge servo._

_He had been, perhaps, a little insensitive for keeping her under his servo like that. He hadn't meant to make her feel caged. When he had had the librarian show her a clip of footage of his gladiator fights, he had not meant to scare her. It was not his intention of her to think,_ How could I ever defeat him? I must weigh nothing to him, if he can move others his own size that easily. I am no obstacle in his path of conquest, I am simply along for the ride. His little Slave Queen, his miniscule broodmare… His insignificant  **bitch**.

_Eleaniris was no bitch, but she thought that she was to him. She felt like a toy, and it disturbed him deeply. She was hardly an inanimate object._

_Still she wrote those notes to the resistance efforts, infuriating him and pulling him into another loop of conflicting emotions. She tried again to ask for the freedom of humanity, and again he refused. With each refusal, he realised, he had pushed her into a darker and darker place. This was no state for the Queen of the Decepticons to be in._

_Her kisses, to a certain extent, had not been real either. When she had kissed him to thank him for revising the treatment of the human children, her motives had quickly changed to trying to seduce him to free the adults as well. He growled as the memory passed in front of his own optics; it was starting to unnerve him._

_Then, he received another unexpected handhold on the end result of her presence in his berth. She had not wanted him to die if he got the bleach in his Energon, as the rebels had planned. Even so, while the other femmes (with the exception of Susan) appeared happy with their mechs, Eleaniris_ _ **hated**_   _him and was not afraid to express it to the others._

Why must you loathe me, my dear Circuitsia? I am the same Megatron - what is so different this time?

_Eleaniris had not taken to the statue of him in the city. In fact, it had made coolant leak from her pretty optics. Anguish and throbbing pain at the loss of Earth consumed her and him, thoughts of being forced to carry her "enemy's" young making him sputter with disbelief._

_He was not her enemy nor her destroyer; he was her protector. Surely she had come to realise that? He had been protecting her mind from knowledge of Prime with the revised datapads - there was no need for her to know about the Autobot that had slain her in a past life._

_But the parties had not made her perk up in the slightest. All they had done was further her misery. He still did not understand, as he watched her life as a Cybertronian in chronological memories. Every time he complimented her, she would curse him in her mind while her spark jolted with pleasure at his praise. It was a most puzzling reaction._

_When he experienced her embarrassment during her dance for himself and his officers, he found that the most confusing of all. She was so beautiful - how could she feel so_ _ **bad**_   _about showing off? Feel so_ _ **dirty**_   _while she displayed herself?_

 _Because she hadn't wanted to. This dance had been, in part, forced upon her by the rebels. She felt pressured into doing something she was loathe to do. Nation had needed an opening, and she was it. She had even spotted the human men - Lennox, Wilson, Simmons, and someone she nor he didn't know - on their way into his Communications' Room. Eleaniris had liked the Scraper Beetle -_ I knew it,  _he grinned - but had wanted to change her attire because she felt like a… slut._

_A strange human word._

_What had made her break was not something scary. What had snapped her fragile resolve was his request to have a dance with her. She_ _ **genuinely**_   _believed him to be mocking her and the culture of humanity, and he gritted his denta with frustration. She called his palace, her_ _ **home**_ _, a "prison" when she left, running as fast as her little legs could take her. He had not realised that his palace was so_ _ **huge**_   _for one so small. Perhaps the Constructicons could remedy that._

 _Megatron, however, did not know whether to be angry or sad that she had betrayed him and called for help from the Autobots. It was in English, so the idiots probably would ignore the message if they got it, but she still wanted to get away from him that_ _**badly** _ _?_

 _She was still very attached to the humans, and they to her. The rebels he had captured had lied when they said they were following his Empress at a distance. In fact, they had_ _ **helped**_   _her run away from him. Wilson he could overlook, as the now-mech had a great ability to care for his Queen, but the other he would have to kill for such an offence._

_But she kept her crown when she arrived at the headquarters of Nation (he would have it razed later), which confused him and evidently her as well. Was it an action of her spark to keep it? If so, why wouldn't her spark convince her processor to like him already?_

_He was held a witness to her visit to the base, seeing her speak to the hidden Council and tour the base with Burns. He felt her spark leap into their shared intake when the guard had dropped her dagger and accidentally twisted the handle, and he hated the despair she felt as she mourned,_

He will always find me, for I, the Slave Queen, will always belong to him.

 _She wasn't a Slave Queen. She was a Queen and an Empress, not the powerless_ _ **toy**_   _she thought she was, and he was getting frustrated with her behaviour. That kept up, until he felt her reckless, suicidal mood when she had answered his comm. and had ripped his spark out with her words._

 _She was sad, despairing for the loss of her home. He knew all too much what that felt like, but her home wasn't lost. It would be even better when he was done with it - couldn't she see that? Earth was going to be his home as well, and the Decepticons would not trash their collective nest. Rather, they would destroy_ _ **other**_   _civilisations and bring the treasures_ _ **back**_   _to Earth._

_No. She didn't see that, but she had seen that he was worried about her. He had walked right over her in that stream, and her spark had almost convinced her processor that his intentions were (for a Decepticon) pure._

_Alas, her spark did not succeed. She still rallied herself against him and ignored her gut. Even watching him punish the drone for whipping the girl had only brought her to the middle; she was still conflicted._

_She didn't even want to comm. him to save her from Starscream. He experienced firsthand her lying to Skywarp that he physically abused her, even though he hadn't. He had never hurt her intentionally._

_His spark, not Eleaniris', whispered to him_ But you did.  _He scowled and dismissed it immediately - she had found a way to appreciate him, therefore if he had hurt her it was null now. He even felt her think,_ Megatron was so much more handsome.  _She kept comparing him and his palace with her dismal surroundings, and he was pleased that he won every time._

_Then, he felt her wilt as Starscream's trine had inspected her for wings and a T-Cog. Starscream even planted the idea that he had torn her wings off himself._

" _So what's supposed to be special about this body then?"_   _She had fumed, still crying even if she wanted to hide it. "I can't_ _ **fly**_ _, I can't even_ _ **transform**_ _," She yelled through her tears, drawing sympathetic looks from the three Seekers, "I'm practically just a metal_ _ **human**_ _."_  So he did want me as a sex toy, nothing more and nothing less.

The only thing I can do, the only thing this stupid, fucking body can do, is serve and pleasure him as his Slave Queen. He doesn't  **care** about me; he just wants me as his damned  **bitch**.

_All he wanted to do in that moment was gather her to his chassis and coo reassurances that he could get her wings, that he wouldn't force her to stay on the ground when she obviously had the frame of a Seeker._

_She cried and screamed internally,_ That bastard ruined everything for me. He took away everything I held dear: my humanity and my freedom, my honor and my independence, my home and my last remaining family.

 _He shook his helm at her thoughts, his spark twisting painfully at her genuine feelings._ She's misunderstanding it all. That's why she feels so bad.

That's why she wanted to be back with you after when Skywarp and Starscream started making advances. She realised that you were good to her.

_The happiness at her willingness to come back at him, however, did nothing to prevent the wish that he had handed Starscream over to Tarn so that the torturer's team could have some diversion. Skywarp eventually, he saw, saved Eleaniris from an impending rape and convinced Starscream to let her go._

_He would, though, have that Seeker watched closely. Thundercracker was one that she liked and trusted, her emotions flaring with appreciation when the blue jet apologized for what had happened to Earth. The Emperor's spark flared with jealousy when it felt what she thought about Thundercracker - he was starved enough for attention for his mate._

_She was safe in Thundercracker's quarters, only to be nearly forced again by mechs that had ultimately met their end via firing squad. They had spoken of her like a frag toy, and it made his spark flare in fury that they had dared to treat his Queen that way._

_But it had only gotten worse._

_Witnessing how his Queen was treated like a strutless pleasurebot made his Energon boil with rage. He wasn't sure that he had ever been this irate before. His mate had been used as a living frag toy, with how mechs had forced her to service their spikes. Sometimes, she had been kept completly immobile and been forced against a spike and been rubbed on it, squished between a mech's servo and a much-larger spike._

_His Queen was forced to orally pleasure while trying to protect the secret of her virginity. She felt worthless, but Skywarp and Thundercracker had come to help as soon as they could. They couldn't save her all the time, but they did try to distract her in the aftermath, cleaning her of spent transfluid and the husky scent of interface. Yet it happened time after time, and her metal fabric was starting to tear._

_He would make sure that she never felt that way ever again. She was not a slave, and she should not be treated that way. He could stitch her torn mind together again with kisses and cuddling, letting her know how much she meant to him. That was, after all, what she wanted. He ignored his processor's whispered scorn; she was the sparkmate he had waited millions of years to see again. He wasn't going to_ _ **not**_   _coddle her._

_Yet, even after all that, she was back to not wanting to be with him. She wanted to stay as far away as possible. Pride kept her away from her rightful mate, pride based on false pretenses. It was the realisation that Starscream had killed Natalie that had pushed her over the edge. Even then, it was not an easy choice for her. He would be sure to pamper her tomorrow and take the day off so that he could repeat to her how much he adored and treasured her, the crown jewel in his Empire._

_Borealis had been pestering Eleaniris about comming Susan and as soon as his femme had tricked Skywarp into leaving her alone outside, she had done just that. Commed Susan. Not him._

_His Queen's spark felt as if it was going to stop pulsing as Susan informed her of the confidential details of Shockwave's plan - but spoke as if he had written it himself._

"He wants to start a breeding programme. He's going to,"  _Susan had given a particularly loud sob and said quickly,_  "s-select the genes he wants and  **b-breed**  the adults for them. He's going to  **k-kill**  the ones that aren't deemed 'fit' by their standards."

_The world spun for both he and his Eleaniris. She was crying before he felt the coolant build up, her mind screaming in agony as her fragile sanity was stretched and ripped even more. What was worse was that he was only just finding out about this. That datapad had been sitting on his desk, gathering dust as he had put it aside for more pressing matters. Eleaniris thought that it was already a done deal, and it had ripped her spark out with the force of the emotion._

_For the thousandth time he wanted to hold her and coo reassurances, but his processor told him to wait. She had associated such negative, cynical, adverse things with him but had praised him with such heart as well? Maybe she had changed and none of what he was seeing mattered anymore - it could be obsolete._

_Yet, she still hated him with a passion when he had found her. The fear of him was fake - Susan had told her to act afraid so as to hurt his spark. He'd been taken advantage of, and his rage was torn between that fact and the loathing Eleaniris had for him that still remained._

_Death, however, was not something she feared either. He realised with dread that she welcomed the blast from his cannon and the terrible, horrible, blinding pain he had inflicted. She didn't hate him for hurting her, which surprised both himself and her._

_She seemed to hate him for everything else._

_Her frame was going painfully cold, the taken-for-granted pulse in her chassis slowed, and her vents stopped. The world was turning gray and cracking, splintering, and fracturing like ice. Slowly the pieces crumbled and fell away, her world shattering like a car window and leaving nothing but empty, cold whiteness in its wake._

_Then, the peacefulness that had shrouded her was gone too. Her mind suddenly screamed for her to wake up, for her to keep fighting him, to not leave her people in despair. But this was not Eleaniris consciously thinking, it was her subconscious, her personality speaking for itself. She was duty bound, and it called her a traitor for deserting humanity. He sensed the making of the faintest crack in his hope for a change._

_These thoughts were buried so deep that he could sense their overwhelming strength and that they would not be shaken from her consciousness like dust from an air filter. They were deeply imbedded, yet he still hoped that she had found solace with him._

_She even wanted to live, as he felt her spark give one last shuddering pulse._ But she lived. Without the Allspark, how could she have offlined and come back online? Was she merely going unconscious?  _She wasn't sure, and neither was he._

" _Eleanor, honey, wake up." Her mother was hovering over her. The young grey eyes of Victoria Sherman peered into her own. His mate's Carrier clearly had passed on her looks to Eleaniris._

_On her other side her Sire knelt, smiling gently down at her. Edward Sherman was his designation, he learned from her mind._

_How were they here? He knew from Soundwave's reports that her Creators had offlined before Eleaniris had even run for her party's presidential nomination. Why were they here then? All of his information was contradicting himself._

" _Am I dead?" Neither of them responded._

" _That is for you to decide." His Queen jumped, as did he, and inspected her side to find smooth, uninjured metal. She was...alright? But that voice…_

_Eleaniris looked up to meet optics just like her own. His spark howled with joy at the sight of Circuitsia, who looked just like he remembered. He wanted so desperately to embrace her, encircle her in his arms and never let go._

_But he settled for awe-filled watching as she informed Eleaniris about herself. The femme clarified that she was not bound to be a sex slave, which threw Eleaniris into another flurry of emotions and made him grateful that Circuitsia had rectified this for him. His sparmate had been so_ _**perfect** _ _. The spell he had been under shattered as Eleaniris asked one question that had been lurking beneath the surface of his mind since first seeing Circuitsia restored._

" _But if I really am your reincarnation, shouldn't our souls be the same? Shouldn't there be only one of us here, instead of two?"_

_His temper flared and his fondness evaporated, replaced with fury at having been chasing the wrong femme this whole time. Eleaniris was not his sparkmate - he had just been desperate and seen her as such. Eleaniris was simply a cyberformed human, a bug not worth all of the time and effort he had spent on her. Instead of his Queen, he had brought to berth the leader of the rebels. Galloway had been stating the truth, after all._

_He should have been spending his time building his Empire, not wooing a scientific experiment. Once this was over with, he was going to kill her, take the Matrix, and move on. Perhaps Circuitsia would be reborn elsewhere._

But why are you in her memories then? This doesn't seem like a common occurrence for bondmates.

_Evidently his frustration had been premature. "That is because there are a few different types of sparkmates, and I am one while you are another. Megatron does not know of this, for it is an ancient classification system that was long forgotten."_

_His spark relaxed at the affirmation that he had not been going insane when he spared the human President. So Eleaniris was a sparkmate of his._

_And his Conjunx Endura, no less; the rarest of the three bonds._

_He joined her in her confusion as the Primes had explained, rather cryptically, the reasons for granting her the Matrix of Leadership and what she was to do with it._

" _At all costs the Matrix must be kept out of Decepticon possession and only with you will it be safe," they had said. Did they not understand they had given him the Matrix on a silver platter? He had both it and his sparkmate in the same package - Eleaniris was in Decepticon possession, and therefore so was the Matrix._

_However, it did irk him that she agreed when those nefarious Primes had said that he did not have the same characteristics of a leader as she did. And that Circuitsia had helped choose her to bear the Matrix…_

_She had been such a dear._

_But she also showed Eleaniris that he hadn't been there to supervise Knockout. She had appreciated his presence during her visits to the medical bay, and was angry that he hadn't been there. He should have come in, but he would explain his duties to her later. Appearances had to be kept up._

_Her parents, like Circuitsia, also had tried to explain to her that he loved her and didn't want to hurt her. Her spark even told her that her Carrier was right about him, but she refused to listen. She was supremely stubborn; in a way, Circuitsia had been like that as well. That, in the context of how willing she had been to surrender to him at last, worried him. So far he had little time to try to truly comprehend, and right now was no exception._

" _Be careful with my baby girl. She is very special to me." Her Carrier's grey organic eyes made him jump, and Eleaniris' confusion barely reached him through the haze of his shock. She was speaking to him_ _ **directly**_ _, through his sparkmate's memories._

_Meeting one's mate's Creators was considered significant in human culture, as he had learned through Eleanor's eyes, and something in that femme's wet optics was making him feel… honored?_

_Blessings from the Sire were also important before a wedding, and he heard his through the audios of Eleaniris. Her sister, too, gave him her advice as well. Eleaniris hadn't a clue what was happening, though after this he would explain._

_They would have a long discussion indeed. He hadn't meant to kill off her friends, but it had happened. Okafor and Burrough were there because they were collateral damage from his takeover - he convinced himself that it was not his fault. He witnessed firsthand that Eleaniris did not return for love of him. She returned because she_ _ **hated**_   _him._

_Dread was beginning to invade his tanks when Circuitsia prophesied to a gloomy Eleaniris, when she told her of the source of power of his fusion cannon and the Submissive Embrace. What President Sherman had felt as she watched the footage of his soldiers decimating her own was what he was experienced brewing in his systems._

_Could this really be going where he thought it was going?_

_He watched Eleaniris mull over the prophecy, watched her look in the mirror and realise the only thing she had left to do. Her opinion of the human race nor her opinion of him had changed; she really felt that this was the only option that remained for her. She didn't become his Queen from her own free will._

_She became his Queen because she had no choice. She became a slave so that the slaves might go free._

_He begged for her to stop, but he was only seeing the past and there was nothing he could do to change it. The Energon that had been in his tanks seemed to evaporate, leaving him feeling empty, while his spark thudded more loudly and more crazily. He knew what was going to happen, and for once in a very long time he felt powerless._

_She had praised him while crushing her spark into a million individual pieces, made him think that she loved him when really she was coming to him to beg for mercy for the ones she actually cared for. And he had fallen_ _ **hard**_   _for what she was saying, if the smug aura of his frame was anything to go by. It sickened her to be a virgin sacrifice and it made her wish that she had gone through with James' pressuring so that he would not be the one taking her maidenhead._

_His spark reeled from the slap to his mechly pride and his affections. Every lick he had given to that frame had been met with disgust, with helpless misery that consumed her mind. She had not been limp from pleasure, but from pain. She had given herself up so that her people could be saved from their fate._

_And they were her people. He knew that now. She was not a reincarnation of Circuitsia, but a new soul whose only home had been Earth. Eleaniris was, had been, a human at spark._

_His spark stuttered and cried out for its mate at her reaction to him readying to enter her. His spike had truly impressed her, but it had also frightened her. She hated the sensation of it rubbing against her belly, felt disgusted instead of aroused. "P-Please, n-not like th-this." She had implored him, hopelessly distraught. "Please."_

_She had been begging to retain her honor. She had not been mourning the un-ripped state of her port or expressing worry over his size. Sadness consumed him at the realisation of his coarseness and the true feelings of his sparkmate._

_Her last memory was of confusion as he had slammed their lips, and jubilant sparks, together at last. She was not happy, far from it._

_She was in more agony than he ever experienced himself. The battlefield had never inflicted such painful wounds to his body as the ones on her processor and spark._

_And it was all his fault._

* * *

Then he was back in his berth, atop Eleaniris with his chestplates still open and the crimson light of his spark shining down on her. He shut them quickly, his spark constricting with sadness when he saw her look.

Her optics were offline, her body limp beneath him and her helm to the side. She was still splayed wide, allowing him access to whatever he desired like the inferior sex slave she believed she was. Her look was one of defeat and utter submission, the demeanor of a femme whose soul had nearly been pulverized to dust by his own fist.

Then, the smallest of whimpers left her vocaliser. If he had not been paying all of his processor space to study her every defeated feature, he would not have heard it. The warlord realised that his spike was still prodding her belly, a feeling that had filled her with utmost disgust.

His reaction was instant. In one smooth motion he retracted his spike, arousal having evaporated with what he had just witnessed, and sat back to pull her into his lap in an embrace. He brought her close to him, encircling her in his arms as the weight of what he had done crashed down over his CPU.

Megatron had thought that he was replacing things for the better, doing away with a simple human Presidency, her small White House, her primitive Air Force One, her lackluster military, and her stunted planet to make room for a Queenship, a large palace, an advanced mothership, a fierce military, and an improved Earth. But in so doing he had taken away what his sparkmate had loved.

The truth was that she had loved her Presidency and her simple but lovely White House, had taken pride in the strength of her Air Force One and military. Her home was the Earth she had known and grown up learning about with her parents. She was happy with those things, and he had insisted on ripping them away to "upgrade them." But she hadn't wanted it. The partial result was one  _very_  despondent, forlorn Queen whose only wish was for a world that had not been impacted by him.

 _President,_ he reminded himself,  _she is still a President._

When he had seen his invasion through her eyes, understood and felt her despair and fear unlike any she had felt prior, he truly comprehended what he had done. In her eyes, he was a monster. In her eyes, he had destroyed her home and laid waste to everything that she had her ancestors had built. In her eyes, he was nothing but an animal except for one fact whose stinging bite knew few rivals:

Animals didn't hunt for pleasure; animals killed to  _survive._ This simple truth made him worse than a beast from her perspective.

What she had seen was him going out of his way to slay and dismember, decimate and murder. A stubborn part of him would never understand the real lack of morality in his actions, but that piece of him and the rest acknowledged the terrible impact it had had on his sparkmate.

His  _human_  sparkmate. He saw now that he had been  **greatly**  mistaken. Earth was her home, not Cybertron.

And he had  _ruined_  it. Every human he or his forces had murdered had hammered into her his callousness, his cruelty, his inability to care for anyone other than himself and his kind. That was why she hated him.

She did not hate him for anything he had done  _directly_  to  _her_  since her capture; the attempted rape he had unknowingly initiated had made her fear him for a little bit, but not hate him. The gifts certainly were not met with hostility because they were gifts - it was because  _he_  was the one giving them, and they were symbols of the forced labor of her people. The best they had gotten him was emotional confusion. She didn't understand what it was about her that he so loved. A part of her, even, wondered if his affection meant that  _she_  was a terrible monster as well. In her processor, she had worried greatly over what it all said about her.

No, she hated him for everything he had done before that. Megatron understood now her kinship with some of the human leaders he had killed - Okafor and Burrough among them. She hated him because he had  _killed_  them, her friends and some of her greatest allies in a world that was very lonely for a "single" woman.

But he was incorrect, in a sense, in that area as well. Eleaniris was married even if not in the traditional sense.

She had filled in the hole in her human heart with service to her homeland in the United States' feeble republic. She was married, but not to a human man.

To a country, to the millions of people living in it. Her life became devoted to them, and Eleaniris had loved every second of her Presidency. But that honor, that marriage, had been annulled as soon as he had started deciding what was "best" for her. He had taken his claw, pried out the "nation" that had been taking up space in her heart and forced himself in where he didn't belong.

And now Eleaniris believed that she was saving her people, humanity, her spouse of sorts, from him. She had thrown herself at him in a last-ditch effort to fulfill her vows, to save them from these "breeding camps" and genetic selection that Susan had glimpsed in Shockwave's suggestion. He hadn't even known about that portion of the report, let alone signed it. Megatron (like Eleaniris, he now knew) always read everything before he signed a formal order.  _Besides, I would not have approved it anyway if I had known that it would make her so upset._

His spark snapped right back at him,  _But you would have. You know it. You would have just brushed off her crying, told her that her people didn't "matter," and forced their copulation anyway._

He couldn't argue with that. He would have done it.

Megatron knew he wasn't her protector as he had thought; he was her enemy, her destroyer. Every cry of  _All hail Megatron!_ had slashed a scar on her cyberformed heart, every crack of the whip had stung her back as much as that of its target. He called her his "precious flower," but he had scorched her over a flame, peeled away her leaves, and plucked all but one of her beautiful petals: her sister, her home, her friends, her humanity, her Presidency, all but her virginity had met their end by his own claw.

All of her life's achievements nullified because of his arrogant,  _selfish_  presence. He shuddered to think of what he could have done to the threadbare fabric of her mind if he had taken her last petal away.

For he might have ended up severing it in two.

He  _had_ ripped away her wings and crushed her vocaliser, if only metaphorically. He had  _ **destroyed**_  his sparkmate, the only femme he had desired to protect. She had been asking,  _crying_ ,  _ **begging**_  for humanity's freedom all along, but he had shushed her and shoved her brazenly against  _his_ , her  _oppressor's_ , chassis.

Eleaniris whimpered in his arms, a sound unsure and very scared. Even though the cry of his Queen was small, weightless like a feather, it had crushed the little amount of control he had left.

Megatron pulled her flush against him, hugging her and cradling her helm carefully against his shoulder. Her pain flowed easily, like Energon had from her tanks only a few hours earlier, into his spark through their bond. He could sense her every emotion, her every sensation, each so exquisitely detailed that he knew it must have been another benefit of their special Conjunx Endura bond.

That he had forced on her. He shuttered his optics, the pain of his Queen consuming him and stirring up grief and despair within him as well. Megatron thought that he had been freeing her when he had made her his mate, but he had instead tossed her in a small, dark, damp cage; he had broken her legs and then beaten her for her inability to dance, deaf to the begging of his tiny, defenseless, powerless mate.

He was not the Prince Charming of the nonsensical human stories, but the dragon keeping her imprisoned in her tower. Eleaniris had even compared him to such, had thought of herself as a virgin sacrifice and mourned the loss of a virginity she had been saving for the man that she fell in love with.

The dull throb of despair and agony became too much for him in the knowledge that he was not that man. Before he knew what was happening, before his processor could stop his spark from speaking, he said words he hadn't uttered since Circuitsia. Even then, he was not sure he had said them.

"I'm sorry, Eleaniris." He whispered sorrowfully, genuinely, into her audials, "I'm so sorry, my love."

As he rocked Eleaniris against his chassis a trail of coolant fell from one of his shuttered optics, giving him a sensation he hadn't personally felt in eons (but had experienced plenty in his Empress' memories). He could have spent eternity with his sparkmate in his arms, cradling her, apologizing and rambling endlessly like a madmech for what he had done.

But he knew it was not to last; the lack of a return of the hug said it all.

There was only one thing he could really do now.

Gone were his chances to make her feel as beautiful as he thought she was. Gone was the chance to have a replica made of her dream wedding dress she had grown up staring at in the downtown store window. Gone was his chance to make her happy, since all he had done was make her feel sad, empty, and hopeless. She would never have any of those things.

All of those times she had been mocked for not having a mate, the embarrassing, sad feeling she had lurking in the back of her mind when she heard her younger sister was getting engaged, her anger at her mother getting too pushy about why she didn't have a husband - he had wanted to get rid of these things.

But she didn't  _want_  him to. He had thought that he was going to make her happy when he had captured her, and her memories had almost proven him correct. The human world had been a sad, cruel place to her, but she was not without happiness. In his world she felt like a helpless rag doll, being jerked this way and that by him in what he called " **her**   _choices_." She was far more depressed than she had been before, all because of him.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I'm sorry." His servos caressed her in small circles, her whimpers dying down in response. Her chestplates were still open, the beautiful white light of her tortured spark calling to him sweetly as it shone around them.

He nearly snarled at himself when he felt how wet she was from his licking earlier. She felt so dirty, and all he wanted was to clean her up…

But that was for sparkmates that managed to take care of each other. The tyrant did not know where he had gotten all of these ideas from, or why he cared about having a sparkmate, but he did. All he wanted was to see a smile on those faceplates, no matter how small it was…

Instead he had belittled her, made her feel smaller than she already was. He was such an  _idiot_ , a true monster for doing this to her. He could have gone on forever with holding her, but he could sense that his time was running short. The night was still young - if he hurried, he could make it right by the morning.

Megatron stood and moved from the puddle she had been lying in, taking her to a separate space on the berth and hugging her for one long moment. Then, he set her down and looked at her optics. He could sense her complete exhaustion - since had learned her personal signals through her memories and also knew the last time she had recharged - and gently stroked her helm and cooed down at her, "Recharge, precious Eleaniris. There is something I must do."

He reluctantly removed his servo from her helm, venting quietly at how she relaxed, her panel still open. Careful so as not to disturb her he crooned reassurances and manually locked it with a steady claw. After doing the same with her chestplates, he stood again and peered down at her with concern and sorrow.

Her heavy-lidded, dim optics looked back up at him with an emptiness that shattered his already sad spark.

"I'm sorry," he remorsefully muttered one last time before he turned around, snapped on his pelvic plating, and regained his own size. The warlord donned his fusion cannon from its place by the night table, turning his back to her and approaching the door reluctantly.

 _This is what she wants,_ he reminded himself. He used the grief and relief coming from her spark to spur him forward, for each step away from his hurting mate was like wading through gelatin.

 _She thinks of you as a monster._ He sighed, getting to the door and finally admitting the truth of millions of years to himself.

 _You_ _ **are**_   _a monster._ The Decepticon Lord offlined and onlined his optics as the weight of what he had been called all along hit him. The rest thought he was a monster, but that had been nothing until he started to think of himself as one.

"What are you doing?" The sound was so quiet and small, meek and timid as he had unconsciously taught her to be. He had unknowingly pounded it into her that she was to be completly submissive, and he hated that he had come so very close to breaking her spirit. She was a Queen, not a consort. He could freely admit to her that she was his equal, only to be the submissive in public.

But her question was an important one: what  _was_  he doing, exactly?

He peered over his shoulder at her, still too ashamed of what he had done to her to meet her optics. He had been a terrible mate, but he still loved her. That was why he was going to do this, right?

"Showing you how much I love you."

With that, he left his berthroom and his precious Queen. There was much to do if he could make this right by her, no matter how much it would pain him. He could live in the knowledge that his Queen was happy.

She had sacrificed so much, suffered so much by his servo, that the least he could do was this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13,500 words! Phew! Since it is so long, I would appreciate if you see something out of place or odd or doesn't tie in right, please PM it to me! Thanks!
> 
> Please review this chapter, as crappy as it probably is!


	68. The Mutual Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

 

_The morning after the bond..._

Optimus Prime had waited long enough. The Decepticon fleet had passed on just a cycle ago, leaving no trace of any hovering ships behind. Where they were was anyone's guess, but the translated message had been bouncing off the walls of his processor since he had heard it.

These creatures had suffered long enough; they had a clear opening, and they were about to take it. All they had to do was go and find the source of the message.

Then help however they could.

* * *

"We did it. It is confirmed that they experienced each other." Circuitsia smiled at the jubilant humans around her, happy herself that a major crisis had been averted. The picture in her time-bubble showed her the Decepticon fleet leaving behind Earth, the countless ships following the huge mothership that no doubt carried Megatron.

Yet, the burden lay with Eleaniris now. She still had to do one thing to save herself and her people.

* * *

_A week after the formation of the bond..._

It took her a week to wrap her head around everything that had happened that fateful day. Still, she stared at the button.

The answer to why he had walked away instead of fragged her was a complicated one, and deeply buried in the memories that had recently become her own.

Even though Eleaniris had not glimpsed all of his memories during the sparkbond, they were still hers and resided in her processor. They felt as if they had been there from the beginning, not having any alien presence at all. They had seamlessly clicked into place, molding in so well that she could access them just as she would her own memories.

She was sitting in the apartment that she had found the morning after, Wilson and Lennox guarding the door. The former still had pains from his Cyberformation, but had insisted on taking shifts with the other human men to protect her. He had accepted Megatron's proposition for Cyberformation, according to the warlord's memories. She was surprised to see him alive at all and the others were here too, all unharmed.

Unconsciously that had called Megatron's experience with them to mind, and she had to apologize for how they were treated in the beginning. However, she also saw how Megatron's demeanor had turned around as soon as they revealed that they were unhappy with the "deal" that Galloway had forged without her knowledge.

That man, evidently, was dead.

Ironic how she had made the same deal he had tried to forge.

That had brought forth Megatron's memories of her. It was… odd to see herself in the third person, but even more odd to feel how he had felt about her. It was love, no denying it, but she had taken a day and a half of sitting and thinking to fully comprehend the extent of his affection for her. She was relieved that he had no intention of making a sex slave out of her, but still was uncomfortable with his love.

It was like seeing a dog use a fork and knife; pure love from a merciless being was unnatural, and therefore hard to come to terms with.

It was hard to think of the mech that had ordered the slaughter of a seventh of the Earth's population could love one of the humans whose reign he had crushed under the weight of his own. She had watched that tyrant sit in his throne and pulverize her friends and enemies alike, smirking devilishly as their blood colored his claws.

She had seen him give orders for captured femmes to be brainwashed so that he could take them to his berth. She had seen him behead members of the cybertronian Senate, pull out their wiring and scatter it carelessly. He was sadistic, he was cruel, he was evil…

And very much in love with her. It was sick on so many different levels.

Yet, she still stared at the button. She had assumed that he had left it, along with a few other things and a note of sorts on a datapad. It was a pretty poem, even if she was conflicted over what he was insinuating, and she wondered if he had written it himself. He was a poet in his younger days, after all.

" _I choose to love you in silence…_   _For in silence I find no rejection,_   _I choose to love you in loneliness…_   _For in loneliness no one owns you but me,_   _I choose to adore you from a distance…_   _For distance will shield me from pain,_   _I choose to kiss you in the wind…_   _For the wind is gentler than my lips,_   _I choose to hold you in my dreams…_   _For in my dreams, you have no end."_

_I may be summoned at the push of a button, President Sherman, if you decide that the circumstances require it._

_Deepest,_

_Megatron_

Eleaniris had shaken her helm and wondered,  _deepest_ _ **what**_ _? And_ _ **President**_ _?_  It didn't make sense to her.

But nothing made sense in the past week, in the context of his persona anyway. He had simply up and left, but it wasn't just him either.

Word had it from the slave camps that there were simply no Decepticons around. They had been pushed into their barracks for a few hours, too scared to come out until the morning. When they had, the Decepticons were gone. Eleaniris had even looked around with Borealis and Wheelie for the femmes, but they were gone as well. Only Susan remained, looking confused and jubilant at the same time.

After that, she and the stylist had found a worried Wilson wandering the halls. She had tried to go outside, still not knowing where the Decepticons were at that point, but it was thanks to her cyberformed state and Wilson's expertise that she wasn't dead.

Her own kind had taken advantage of Megatron's absence to try to kill her and it hurt her to no end - she had saved them, only for them to turn on her as an "aid of the enemy." That had led to her confinement in her apartment with guard shifts. Wilson assured her earlier today that Nation was already on the situation around Earth, but Eleaniris was not stupid.

Power vacuums were bad in a single country, but for an entire  _planet_  to be a power vacuum… it was bad. People, both good and evil, were trying to take over in the wake of the disappearance of Decepticon rule. Things were going downhill, fast.

She was happy that Megatron had finally left her people alone but she was starting to have doubts about the good of this situation.

What did not help was the sorrow and regret coming from Megatron's end of their bond, so potent it hurt.

* * *

Megatron kept his demeanor very guarded, though inside he could feel himself coming apart. The war-hardened tyrant was softening, and he knew it. His guilt was drowning him in ways he had not thought possible. At this point it was hard to get a decent recharge, and even harder to manage the enormous fleet of ships now travelling through space in search of another Earth.

He had crushed her. He had placed so many heavy chains on her that she had fallen, to be pinned by their weight. He had slaughtered her mate of a nation and taken every opportunity to shove her face against its dead, rotting corpse. He thought these things whenever he thought of returning to her.

And what he had been planning for the human race after her sacrifice was beyond consolation with Eleaniris. Every time he thought of returning to her, he reminded himself of everything he had done to hurt her and the ones she actually cared for.

Her happiness at his absence the day after he had bonded with her was a striking blow as well. It was more than enough to keep him away. Though their bond would be temporary, since it was never sealed with interface or another action of trust, her emotions were terribly potent to him. Her mother had told her that she was not excellent at forgiveness, and he was experiencing it now.

Forgiveness was too much to ask for from her, after he had put her on a tight, derogatory leash and muzzled her like an animal. He knew it was too much to ask for after seeing himself in a flux, backing her ever so slowly into a corner and taking his sweet time with demolishing her world, right before her petrified optics. He had commenced to beat her  _tiny_  frame with his comparatively  _huge_  servos, drawing out cries for mercy that had only made him punch more.

She had attempted to get up after every blow, only to be hit harder to the floor. Eventually she had stopped trying to stand and laid limply in her corner, wearing the crown of the Slave Queen, her optics empty. Then, he had seen himself throw her into a cage so small she couldn't even lie down, all the while crooning that it would be alright as he tortured her with an electrified Energon prod.

Usually that was where the flux ended, leaving him more remorseful than before over Eleaniris' state. The events in it had never literally happened, of course, but they had metaphorically occurred. He had tortured her soul and spark so feverishly it was a wonder that she hadn't tried to offline herself by slicing fuel lines, starving, or simply impaling herself.

He had been so blind to the true cause of her suffering; himself. He had ignored all of those times she had asked, begged, implored for the freedom of the humans and covered that request up with one of his foolish notions. He had made her suffer, hurt her more than any of the other humans she had been with. It had been one of his greatest mistakes.

He was not about to make another by going to Earth again uninvited. Logically, since he was the cause of her pain, his removal was also the removal of her pain; his absence the absence of pain.

Megatron had been greatly ashamed, an emotion greatly unfamiliar to him, when he had left her in his former berthroom in his former palace - the same one built upon the ruins of her White House. The night was all that was needed for his Decepticons to herd the slaves into their barracks, and pack up any Energon and alien technology the humans wouldn't have had access to before, and leaving.

Half-heartedly he had had Wheelie construct a "panic button" for her to push should she ever need him again. Need, not want; there was not a way in the universe she would ever want to see her torturer ever again. He didn't expect her to use it.

In fact, Megatron thought that she might end up dying herself before she would voluntarily press that button.

He had cleared up any questions about their sudden departure with a false geological survey that Shockwave had (not) been working on during the past Earth year. According to the wording of the non-existent report, the Earth simply did not have enough resources to justify such a great Decepticon slave operation. Blitzwing had bemoaned the loss of Earth, as had a few others, but Megatron had simply told them that there were other planets that would reap greater rewards for their efforts than little Earth ever would. However, he had assured them that they would be back to utilise the human females as mates as soon as their home planet had been picked and settled upon. That was why, he said, that Eleaniris had stayed behind with "several thousand Decepticons" for management - though not a single Decepticon remained on Earth.

It was not a bad guise to have come up with in less than a solar cycle. It even justified his eventual protection of Earth, as he had plans for a small battle cruiser to orbit the solar system and surveil the area.

Just because he was forced by himself to leave his mate behind did not mean that he was going to leave her unprotected. In a few more solar cycles he would have one assigned to inform Decepticon Command of an alien threat towards Earth.

It had not taken long for him to vow to himself that Earth, specifically Eleaniris, would never know an alien invasion again. Even Wheelie was ordered to monitor Eleaniris, providing him with video feed of her upon request.

He felt like he was doing something she wouldn't like when he spied on her, but he only told himself it was for her own protection. He was keeping her safe, that was all.

But his shame would spike up again whenever she would stare into his optics through Wheelie's and his gaze would immediately shift elsewhere out of guilt. A week later, and he still could not bare to look her in the eye after what he had done to her.

Megatron couldn't care less about the ethics of what he had done on Earth; the only thing that mattered was how he had affected her with his actions. The warlord supposed that it was this culpability that gave him the fluxes of never-ending human blood on his servos.

The dream-Eleaniris would whisper to him that she would love him when the red human liquid was gone, and he would earnestly try to wash his servos. The blood would wash off, but come back even more crimson from nowhere.

He hated that flux as much as the others of him torturing her.

He had reached out to the green planet Earth as it had gotten smaller and smaller, much in the way Gatsby had done to the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. She hated that book, he knew that now. He knew so many things about her that he would never have the opportunity to utilise.

As he had been too hurt leaving Earth with regards to his own mate, he had overlooked giving orders regarding femmes and selected human females. The result: plenty of femmes and females on this ship that were at least complacent with their mates, if not very  _contented_.

Megatron had witnessed more than a whispered conversations and crooning mechs over giggling human females and femmes alike. He had been merely passing by one of the various rec rooms around the ship and had the curse of overhearing an exchange that had twinged his spark.

Soundwave, concerned about Grace leaving her home planet, had asked if she was sure with her departure. The fact that he never would have asked this of his own mate pierced Megatron's spark, but the response almost made him turn and tear with his claws the titanium wall of the hallway in his fury and pain.

For Grace had said, a smile in her happy voice, that "Home is anywhere with you."

If he had taken Eleaniris away from Earth, she would probably never have spoken to him again.

Talia had been all too happy to be in space with Skywarp, sitting in the Seeker's palm and speaking to him quickly, gesturing out the video screen at the space they were passing through. In the distance, Pluto had been visible.  _Eleaniris thinks it should have remained a "planet,"_ he had thought absentmindedly.

Even as sad as that thought had made him, the joy and curiosity in Talia's voice hurt even more. He had never heard Eleaniris speak to him in that tone  _ever_. Skywarp, as he understood from Soundwave's surveillance reports, had had that femme barely a few  _days_. Even then she was happier than Eleaniris had been - with him at least.

It was his own fault this time that he had lost her, too. Optimus hadn't ripped his mate away this time.

Bonecrusher had a happy femme, and Scrapper and Hook were getting theirs to come around with their new frames. Knockout's, even though she was very serious, was learning to like the medic too. Their optics all sparkled with a light that had never been in Eleaniris' optics for him.

It wouldn't be long before there were chirps of new sparklings echoing through the halls.

Megatron supposed that he could have ordered a stop to the interfacing, but all that would get him were rebellious officers that were unhappy with their newfound privilege being taken away. His spark was, of course, furious with him for leaving Eleaniris alone, but he was learning to gradually ignore it. He would divert his attention to building his Empire or reviewing reports of possible habitable worlds, but his spark would poke and prod until it found the question that made his processor seize.

_What is an Empire without an Empress?_

He truly needed to stop being so soft, but he snapped back in his fight against himself:  _She will not reply. It is over._

_You will never see her again. The bond will go in another week or so, and you can forget._

* * *

She went from looking at the button to looking at the pile of things he had left for her, all laid out on top of the piano as she played unconsciously  _Hallelujah_. She hadn't touched them and they remained as they had been set down when Borealis had brought them in from the coffee table in the main room.

The daggers she was glad to have back, if not sad about how she might need to use them. The ring in the box made her feel… sad? Especially after all of the efforts he had gone through with the Constructicons to make such a comparatively microscopic thing. But the flag was the most puzzling of all.

It was the one he had refused to soil with polish but had set aside out of twisted respect for her. He could easily have defiled it with the stain of polish, rubbed it over his frame and desecrated it with the treatment of a common rag. Yet he hadn't.

It was even folded correctly, in a triangle shape with the stars facing outwards, and she could tell it was probably one of the huge, expensive ones from the size of the triangle. If she had seen his memories, he had probably seen hers as well. Therefore, he folded it as she had known how to do.

Was that why he had walked away from her and why he felt shame?

He had been so desperate to get a reaction from her that he had asked for assistance, first from Soundwave with the "human training," then Susan for the slow dancing and Susan again for the "fear" factors. Megatron rarely asked for help, but the desire to please her overrode the desire to be independent.

That desire to be in control made sense to her now. His beginnings as a slave when his life was in the servos of others drove him to become a tyrant; his subconscious need was to be sure that he could not be controlled again. He saw the world as slaves and enslavers - if you were not one, you were the other.

His perspective showed her just how much he was a product of war, whilst her disagreement showed how much she was a product of peace. Even so, he had learned to feel love for her and, in the past, Circuitsia.

All along the unnameable look in his optics had been love, even though he scorned the word "love" itself. He didn't care for any cruel side of her as she had started to believe prior - he actually  _loved_  her because her spark spoke to his in the language that only Conjunx Endurae shared. He loved her for reasons he couldn't explain, which she supposed was the truest form of love there was.

But she didn't return his feelings. She couldn't, not when all she could think of was how he had slaughtered and enslaved, decimated and destroyed. The heart of her conflict, however, was that she could also think of the times he had been kind to her. In truth she had never used a heating pad for cramps before, and without her asking he had found her one and stroked her, gently, into sleep.

He didn't have to be nice to her, but he had. Megatron hadn't needed to give her a warm, soft place to sleep or plenty of warm, adequate food. She could easily have ended up in a human-sized hamster cage, naked, thin, and shivering. Despite how nature and nurture had created the warmonger, he had been gentle and, for someone like him, considerate. His claws had been very careful with her, and not once had they sliced her open.

The memories of the paintings made her flush, but she wasn't completly unhappy with them. It was… flattering in a way to have oneself painted like a french girl, even without knowledge and consent.

But, no matter how well he had treated her, there was the problem of how he treated her home and her people. It would be like mixing potassium and water to call him back using that button. She wasn't sure humanity would accept her again as she was, but she could forget about forgiveness if she crossed the line and invited their conquerors back.

Yet were they better off? She already had endured one attempt on her life from disgruntled people who saw her as the enemy now. Earth was about to be fought over by many groups trying to seize power - she guessed that most would be evil or have self-serving ways. As much as she wished she had faith in humanity to establish democracy again…

It was not as easy to say as she would have liked it to be. The truth was that the government of the United States was gone, and republics such as it were a miracle among tyrannies and monarchies. No one had the resources to rebuild, either. Who would work for free, for the hazy "benefit of mankind?" Where would they get food? There wasn't enough, especially if people started to fight over it as she could see them doing. The Earth had fallen,

And it couldn't get back up.

That wasn't the least of her worries, either. Since the question of the existence of aliens had been answered, she could only wonder how many other hostile races there were wandering around space. She could name a few from fiction, and the thought of running into an xenomorph, a Dalek, a Yautja or a Harvester almost made her cry out for Megatron out of reflex.

The Earth could easily be conquered before from the vastly superior Decepticons, but now they had no military left. They were sitting ducks even more than they had been before. Whomever came by could just take as they pleased in the absence of a defense. There was a plus to being in the belly of a beast, if only that one could not be eaten by other beasts.

Megatron had  _actually_  let her planet go, done something he had never done before to the other planets the Decepticons conquered. He had forced open the vice-like jaws of the Decepticon war machine, released the crying, bleeding Earth and left it, still covered in traces of saliva. He had walked away.

Probably moved on to another planet by now, someone else's home. He was probably testing his Infiltration Protocol somewhere, using Sixshot and Overlord and Black Shadow to decimate and conquer another meal for the Decepticon beast to devour. Those mechs were enormous - it would not be long before the Decepticons had found another nest.

Had she… doomed someone else? Her spark felt a pang, but she also thought coarsely,  _That's not my problem. I can't protect everyone._

_But can you even protect your kind, or yourself for that matter?_

She couldn't, which might have been the tragedy of them all. She couldn't protect her people, even if she had by inadvertently sending Megatron away. The only reason she had thrown off the colossal weight of the Decepticons was because Megatron had chosen her as his Queen and found shame in her suffering.

The next alien invaders, she was sure, would not be the same. She would not "luck out" again if that happened. By some freak maneuvering she had guilt-tripped Megatron into leaving her people alone, but the next aliens would not choose her to be their Queen.

Was humanity  _ **actually**_  going to be better off without some sort of protective presence?

 _Alright,_ she groaned, still staring at the silver button,  _even if I call him back to Earth, what happens with us? I can't possibly forgive him. Do I just say 'hey, we need your protection but I don't want anything to do with you, thanks and bye'?_

She bit her lip, her fingers instinctively playing the tune as the sole focus of her vision was the contrast of the silver button on the black wood of the piano.  _It wouldn't hurt to give him another chance._

Eleaniris instantly recoiled, playing a deeper key by mistake before going back to the tune.  _ **What**_ _?_

 _People don't change, and especially he won't. Not after living that way for_ _ **millions**_   _of years._

 _But he left you alone,_ her spark tried to reason, sounding much like her mother would,  _he saw what he did, and felt ashamed. Don't you feel that pain from him inside?_

 _He even said that he was sorry._ It was starting to sound more and more like she didn't have a choice.

Again.

Her spark was hammering away at her resolve, making it crumble like stone under the assault of Megatron's pickaxe.  _The beginning of change was evident when he called you "President Sherman."_

 _He was just as lonely as you. Can't you give him another chance? He wanted to give you everything, and he_ _ **really**_   _cared. That look in his optics was there from the very beginning, from the first instant he saw you._

_His leaving, saying the words "Showing you how much I love you" were alone proof that he cares._

Eleaniris retracted her servos from the piano, laying them limply in her lap. Even if she did call him, humanity would forever see her as a traitor. She would be viewed as a sellout, a coward, a filthy, greedy politician if she asked him back. Like hell she was going to go down as a Judas or a Benedict Arnold.

Unless… they didn't know that she called him back.

Besides, she was tired of staring at that button like a suicidal person would the gun in their dresser drawer. She was tired of worrying about the fate of her people at the hands of themselves or another alien race. She was tired of being alone. She was tired of waking up to that pain in her spark flowing from Megatron's end of their temporary sparkbond.

Maybe this was the role she had to play. Circuitsia had said, " _Soon a choice will have to be made that affects not only the enslavement of your people, but of others as well."_

She could do this. Megatron might listen to her now. She could save her people from themselves if she asked for his protection. Maybe,  _maybe_  things would be okay.

Maybe she could turn out happy.

It was a quick turnabout from a week ago, when she would have cursed and begged for him to go.

But her only choice did not seem to be a downright  _terrible_  one.

Just as her finger went to press the button, she recoiled as if burnt, standing up and rushing away, turning her back to it and crossing her arms over her belly in a shudder.

"No," she said aloud, "I can't do that."

_He is a monster, and pressing that button could end up ringing the dinner bell. Bringing him back would bring the Decepticons back, and that isn't going to be pretty. They are not remorseful as he is - they will still kill for the thrill of it._

_What if he just enslaves again?_

Her spark was quick to reassure,  _Why would he do that? He felt shame and remorse for what he has done, so much so that he still feels terrible a week later._

_Besides, you know that he was not born evil, Eleaniris._

She bit her lip again, staring at the floor this time in deep thought.

" _Please, master! Give me another chance!" The tray of Energon was thrown back into the youngling faceplates of Megatron, nearly missing his optics._

" _You good for nothing_ _ **glitch**_ _!" The mech picked him up by the scruff bar, Megatron struggling with his tiny weight, and proceeded to a huge door stomping as he went._

_Servants rushed to open it, standing complacently to the side as the head-of-staff tossed him out into the middle of the crowded, dirty street just outside the mansion. He was still dripping pink Energon, his tanks so empty that he licked it off eagerly though his vents shuddered in remorse at the loss of another home._

_He was just a slave, a bastard sparkling, wherever he went in Tarn. He was a big youngling for his age and had all the clumsiness that came with it. No one wanted him, a mech who would no doubt amount to nothing but a miner._

His memory banks were full of experiences like that one, so many that pity was her only possible emotion for him. Sometimes she wanted to cry, seeing him treated like that when he was little older than a baby. She had grown up with parents that loved her, always with a roof over her head, a safe place to sleep, and food in her belly. Things like that gave her insight into things Megatron might never know himself.

She could see, for instance, that behind the war-hardened exterior was a sparkling that wanted love, that wanted to  _be_  loved. He wanted to protect her and cuddle with her, desperate to keep her close where she was safe and he couldn't lose her. He wanted someone that needed him, that wanted him. Just like with his hunger for control, his deeply-buried desire for love was rooted stubbornly into the depths of his past.

Eleaniris hadn't thought that she had a motherly instinct. She knew that she wasn't athletic, wasn't very artistic and didn't have a pleasant voice, but she had also thought that her instincts to nurture were absent as well.

Evidently they weren't, because now all she wanted to do was to curl up atop his chassis or in a cupped servo, where he could easily stroke her and cuddle protectively around her. She even wanted to pet him too, run her servos over his faceplates and murmur that he would never feel like an unwanted sparkling ever again.

But that mech was different now. He was a controlling, merciless tyrant that showcased his strength with a flourish and a hidden threat to stay away. Megatron was not a cute, fluffy animal to hold to one's chest, no.

He was the bull with sharpened horns, the crocodile that preyed on unwary birds, the bear with deadly claws.

He was all of those things, and yet he wanted to be with her.

Finally, someone  _wanted_  her.

She looked over her shoulder at the button, realising that her processor was losing the battle. There were simply too many reasons to ask him back, more reasons than to keep him away. What benefit would come from not calling him back to Earth, anyway?

None really, from what she could see. She had to roll the dice with this one, or risk complete annihilation from within Earth or outside of it. As it was right now, the planet was a ticking time bomb. Martial law and unshrugable poverty, persistent starvation, and a thousand years of impenetrable darkness were knocking at her door now.

The question was whether she answered it or called the police.

With a deep vent to finalize her choice, the scared and desperate homeowner pressed the button. Eleaniris had expected to feel sorrow for her actions and immediate regret, but all she could sense was a feeling of peace.

The kind one got when your gut told you everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Earth wasn't visible any longer. Not even with the video screens of the command deck zoomed in to their maximum. Perhaps it was better that way.

Ever since he had seen Earth through Eleaniris' optics, he no longer thought of it as such a terrible, disgusting mudball. In fact, the  _tiniest_  portion thought of it as home. Perhaps because, to his spark, home was where his sparkmate was.

It was where he, too, was supposed to be. His palace had looked eerie, all empty and stripped of any alien technology. He had wanted it to be, instead, filled to the brim with little sparklings that he could cup in his servo by the dozen. Eleaniris would have borne him such small little bitlets with the size of her chamber. They would have grown into strong, big mechs like himself anyway, since he would be their Sire.

But that would never happen, and he had to keep himself from slumping with disappointment. He couldn't show such weakness here, at the front of the command deck of the  _Nemesis._

Earth was where his sparkmate was and where he should be. But he had exiled himself with his own actions against her world. He had harmed her greatly and his punishment was to know that she was alive and where she was, but to be unable to go to her. He had chained himself in this way.

His sparkmate would not be his, all because of his idiocy.

He nearly started when the innocent, resounding ping echoed across a quiet command deck. Thundercracker, his recently-deemed Second-in-Command and Aerial Commander, looked at him with a cocked helm and blank optics. Eleaniris had liked  _that_  mech, he remembered with jealousy.

Soundwave, too, looked at him expectantly from his work station. Grace, quiet as always, beamed up at him with encouragement from her mech's shoulder. She must have known too what the sound meant.

He reset his audios to be sure, but the ping echoed again across the deathly quiet of the bridge.

Megatron almost howled with joy for all of the galaxy to hear when he realised that he was, indeed, being called back home. His sparkmate, after all, needed him. Even if it was just to protect her and she didn't want to see him, he would gladly return.

"To Earth," he ordered Soundwave with a grin. The Communications Officer nodded with a smirk of his own, and Grave muttered a triumphant "Yes!"

_To home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Megatron wrote for Eleaniris was actually written by Jalaluddin Rumi. I hoped this seemed logical.


	69. The Clash of Titans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

The humans were pale, tiny creatures with wet optics that regarded the new arrivals with fear, so much that the intelligence there was almost completly hidden by it. Optimus had no doubt that a Decepticon ship arriving after so many had left would be frightening to the helpless beings.

Which made him wonder if this was a trap, meant to lure Autobots to Earth for their terrible demise. It was the perfect guise - no Decepticons around a conquered planet would be a sign that there was another nefarious scheme afoot, but Megatron knew that suffering creatures would draw them in like Scraper Beetles to spilled Energon. An interesting trap it was, indeed.

But the Decepticons also didn't leave their slaves loose. He expected to see them crammed in cages, not moving about of their own free will. The humans were horribly fearful, some even screaming and fleeing upon seeing them. Optimus Prime had long ago given up on trying to console the small earthlings - Ratchet had since told him that it wasn't going to work.

The Decepticon scarring ran too deep. For the humans, anything that looked like a Cybertronian was dangerous and cruel. He noticed how the larger male humans stood in front of their smaller females - a weak defensive gesture that made his chassis twinge with sorrow at what must have ingrained such a reaction in the males.

He was right. The Decepticons probably had been grabbing mates from the human females, making the males try to protect them even if it was futile against much larger, much stronger beings bent on having a berth toy. What the Decepticons had done was horrifyingly cruel, and he didn't fully understand until he found the humans' "Internet" just what had happened to them.

The Prime saw a fledgling society that had just discovered space flight barely a vorn before, a government with laws and bodies remarkably similar to those of Cybertron. Traces of sentience were everywhere, as was proof that humans had not always been the trembling, screeching, terrified aliens they were now.

Humans were, by no means, peaceful to one another. They could be just as cruel as Decepticons with their treatment of those of rival "nations," religions, and political beliefs. They had just as much of a knack for destruction, from what he learned of their history in his brief search.

But they were kind, too. Just as often as he saw abuse he saw assistance. Many even took care of the other creatures that inhabited Earth, and carefully tended to their ecosystem. There was just as much potential for good as there was for evil. The Autobot leader found an astonishingly large number of similarities between the little humans and themselves.

Thanks to Megatron's invasion and enslavement, the once proud and inquisitive human race was degraded to nothing more than a group of scared animals. The poor creatures had lost everything as they were demeaned and roughly reshaped into slaves to the Decepticon beast, forced to feed it until it had eaten all of the resources Earth could offer. Then it would spread its ominous wings to find another meal, leaving behind the stranded, starved creatures it had used to fill its monstrous belly with the energy of their home.

He even saw the young ones hurriedly step out of the way and dip their helms, all but dropping to the ground on their wobbly knees when his group passed by. Their adversaries had done a number on the spirit of the humans, and even forcefully fed the idea of complete subservience to the young. This was obviously meant to be a multi-generation effort on part of the Decepticon Empire - imprint the ideals of the Decepticon masters into the younglings so that they might make better servile slaves.

Maybe it was already too late - had the Decepticons already taken everything Earth had to offer, and that was their reason for leaving? He knew that the Allspark was in Megatron's possession and that their were many millions, if not a billion, Decepticons to fuel and command. There seemed to be many females left behind - wouldn't they have taken all of the human femmes if they made such good mates?

And the Queen… Megatron's personal berthwarmer. Optimus Prime was caught between feeling that he should hurry to find and help her (if she was still on the planet) or avoid seeing what the tyrant had done to her. Megatron had been described as huge, no doubt making the Queen very, very small. He shuddered to think of the ways in which she was used to sate the colossal Decepticon Lord's desire for interface.

There might be nothing left of her for Ratchet to repair.

The battered Prime shook his helm and regarded the equally shocked looks of his team. Ironhide, Mirage, Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Jazz all mirrored his expression of shock, sympathy, and horror. Mudflap and Skids even did not move to fight and agreed in English that what they were seeing was terrible.

This made the humans glance and murmur among themselves, though not a single one stepped forward. Their physical likeness to the Decepticons probably did not help.

Perhaps a change of alt mode was in order.

* * *

Eleaniris stalked quickly on the first floor of the vacant palace, biting her lip so hard that she feared that she might dent the metal. She certainly hoped that she had done the right thing by pushing that button - by God, she had better not end up back at square one. As soon as she had removed her finger from the slim, smooth silver, a burst of happiness came over her bond with Megatron.

She didn't spend too long mulling over that one.

All four of the men were with her, walking her to the throne room where she anticipated that Megatron would enter first. It would be best to make sure that she intercepted him as soon as possible. It was brave for them to come along, and she was glad that they had volunteered to do so yet also worried. Megatron could have an unpredictable temper and could easily end up taking it out on one of them.

The throne was still there, as was her plush cushion on the top stair.  _Will I have to sit there after this? When he comes back?_

_How is this going to work?_

He could very easily shrug her off. It wouldn't be difficult to just go about business as usual for him. He could have taken it as an invitation to come back and continue what he had started. Panic seized her, a sensation similar to being punched in the gut overtaking her mind. She felt herself give a shiver, her engine stalling - what if he ignored what she had to say and busied himself with "properly greeting" his mate? He could just grab her and go back up to their apartments to take her, this time with no interruptions from a rare sparkbond.

She certainly hoped that it was a good idea to bring him back here. After all she had gone through to get him to go away…

Eleaniris was so consumed by her own thoughts and emotions regarding Megatron that she almost failed to notice the throne room doors creaking open on their mighty hinges. She never understood why, with the sliding panels all over the palace, Megatron had had those types of manual doors installed in certain places. They were, to some degree, exotic. She imagined - knew, in fact - that Cybertron did not have those doors. They were an Earth invention.

That was the reason. They were different, just like the marble all over his palace. She knew that, but that did not mean that she understood him. There were plenty of things that she knew but did not comprehend. Maybe Conjunx Endurae were supposed to be that way.

Regardless, she started and even stepped back when her casual glance at the doors showed her that it was not Megatron returning to his palace. Her optics went wide and she offlined and onlined them to be sure of what she was seeing.

Autobots, based on the prominent symbols. Optimus Prime at the front from Megatron's knowledge.

He looked different now than Megatron remembered him, but the most prominent features remained the same. There were others with him too, ones that Megatron knew the designations of. They had colors, in contrast with the silver she understood they had before. The men with her, though, moved in front of her protectively in absence of knowledge of who they were.

Wilson stood front and center, not yet taking a stance but making his presence known. It was futile anyway - if they wanted, they could just fling him away. He was stronger now as a cyberformed mech but still no match for the beings that towered over them.

Eleaniris found the blue optics a nice break from the hard red that she had been used to seeing. They were a calming color, the hue of pleasant sea, as opposed to the alarming color of spilled blood.

She even found it refreshing in the way that Optimus Prime crouched, kneeling before her to get closer to her level instead of plucking her up as she had grown accustomed to. He was sacrificing his comfort for the sake of hers, and even such a small movement made her trust him though he had yet to say a word.

The Autobot leader had found it sad when the human males and tiny mech formed a protective line in front of the femme. They were so small and surely they knew that he could push them aside if he wished, but still wanted to protect her - in fact, he couldn't interpret their gesture as anything but protective of Megatron's "Queen."

He could sense that was who she was, for Megatron's scent had reached him all the way from the doors. She  _reeked_  of him, and judging by the looks on his mechs' faceplates they had smelled it too.

The femme was tiny, smaller than he thought she would be. She could easily have fit into the center of his servo and, to his horror, he understood her appeal to Megatron. She was of average beauty by Cybertronian standards, but her size made her manipulatable - she could by subspaced with ease, even. Fear of punishment or being crushed would keep her obedient to his every wish. Those tiny servos would be so diligent in stroking him, that tiny glossa working sensitive wiring and nodes. She could easily be clenched in a fist and forced against a spike, and immediately the Prime stamped out lustful thoughts of what he could do to her.

He was just as evil as his enemy if he continued down that path.

The President was nothing like she had been before, if the internet was anything to go by. Her posture was straight was ever, but whereas she used to take up space in a subconscious assertion of dominance she folded in on herself, portraying submission. She was every bit the servile Queen that Megatron had pounded her into being.

Yet, she stood her ground well. She did not scuttle backwards out of fear or twisted "respect," and watched him with a flash of gratitude in her pretty white optics. He hadn't seen that color for some time.

The men around her, however, immediately tensed and made known their displeasure with his proximity.

"Are you President Eleanor Sherman of the United States?" He hoped his English was alright.

She jumped and a thoughtfulness penetrated her optics. "It depends on who you ask."

Another thing Megatron had beaten out of her, from the sound of it. His enemy had a knack for sparklessness. His spark stuttered to think of how she, this poor, small, defenseless creature had been hit and abused.

And thrown away, evidently, like scrap metal or a broken part. The unfortunate femme.

"I ask you."

A corner of her lip components jerked upwards for the smallest of instants and she replied seriously "I am, though now I am called Eleaniris."

"Burns, Lennox, Simmons, it is alright. You may leave." The human males stared at her but obeyed reluctantly, the one with the grey "hair" giving him a particularly skeptical, hard look before inching away.

"Ben," the Queen addressed the mech, "You can stay, but please step aside."

Ben obviously didn't like it, but he moved as well. They were there to guard her, he realised sadly. Megatron hadn't ordered such a thing, wouldn't in fact. It was loyalty.

"You must be Optimus Prime."

He hadn't even introduced himself yet and her knowledge disturbed him. "I am."

She peered around him, "I see you have brought others as well." Eleaniris wasn't sure if she liked the pity on their faces for her or not. When she shifted, though, the skirts caught Optimus' optic. They were strange coverings indeed, and not the traditional human clothing either. Perhaps… leftovers from a kink of Megatron's? If he had given her no other armor to wear, of course she would want to cover herself with those.

They weren't in bad taste and drew attention to the slimness of her form, but even he could sense that they were not chaste coverings. They were cruel entrapments, versions of the delicate armor of a pleasurebot.

She looked at each of his mechs in turn, greeting them by their own designations pleasantly, "Jazz."

"Ratchet." The medic quirked an optic ridge.

"Ironhide." His optics hardened and he started to step forward, but stopped in his tracks when she added hesitantly and sorrowfully, "my condolences for your loss. She did not go easily." She could only be speaking of Chromia.

"Mirage." The mech gave a slight nod of acknowledgement like the noble he was.

"Mudflap and Skids." Their shock kept them from replying.

"Bumblebee." She cocked her helm and said, "I'm sorry for what Megatron did to your vocaliser. It was cruel." The minibot gave an inquisitive but accepting beep in response.

Eleaniris turned back to him, "But surely this is not all of you."

Optimus jerked his helm back a modicum at her bluntness. "Most of us. A few remain unaccounted for." What was this femme getting at?

"Nevermind tha, how do ya know so much about  _us_?" Ironhide had bristled again and stormed up behind his leader, powering up his cannons and sending Eleaniris into a fit of panic.

She cowered instantly and lowered her gaze to the floor, her former confidence gone. Optimus, alarmed also, ordered him to stand down. "No one will hurt you, Eleaniris."

The femme took a few moments to recover, standing tall again but still wary. "I know from Decepticon files." It would be best to keep her sharing of Megatron's memories a secret, for it would be hard to explain and she would sound insane. At least for now.

Optimus, meanwhile, avoided contemplation on just how the femme had been abused so that she would cower so quickly and instinctively.

In the awkward silence, Mudflap had overcome his shock and burst out, "You have a Seeker build, but where are your wings?"

"I don't have any." It was a flat statement of fact and Optimus suspected that Megatron had had that alteration made on purpose. She couldn't have what didn't suit him. The Prime was still having trouble comprehending what the tyrant had done to this world.

Skids continued, "Why did he leave you behind?"

They had started to form a circle around her, all of them standing except for Optimus. "I don't think I understand why he is gone."

Her answers were short and cryptic, betraying that she knew more than she was letting on. Optimus noticed her nervousness being in the center of them all, since they all towered over her. Ratchet observed bluntly, "My scans show a lack of a transformation cog. Were you aware of this?"

"Yes." She was becoming annoyed. He could hear it in her tone but couldn't see it on her face. Obviously answering one question had just been an invitation for more. His mechs didn't mean to harm or irritate her, but their curiosity and her perceived friendliness had overridden their control.

In actuality, Borealis had been annoying Eleaniris as well. The gryphon was worried, which she appreciated, but now was not the time to ask where she was.

"Optimus," she all but shouted over the growing din of questions from increasingly curious Autobots, "may we speak alone?"

"Yes," he agreed, contemplating picking her up. He couldn't just pluck her up because she was smaller than he was, no matter how used to it she might be from handling at the servos of the cruel Decepticons. Slowly he offered her a flat servo to settle into, thinking it best that he leave the choice up to her.

The Prime was surprised when she stepped in without hesitation, sitting down in the center of his palm. She was weightless, so very light he wondered if there was anything to her at all as he stood from the strange flooring.

His small group hadn't bothered with halting their rapid-fire of questions, and he held up his empty servo to wordlessly signal them to do so. They quieted immediately and watched for further instruction.

"What would you prefer that we do, Eleaniris?"

She seemed rather taken aback that the choice was hers. Optimus wasn't surprised, but his sadness and pity did deepen.

"He- they left us with a vat of Energon. There are some empty cubes, and its just down the hall that way." She pointed at the door to the left of Megatron's throne, and the Autobots followed her gaze. "You all must be starving. Its behind the second door on your left and down the stairs."

Optimus nodded, gesturing for them to go. Though they glanced questioningly at her, they obeyed their leader without question, all except for one.

Jazz remained, watching the Autobot commander with a cocked helm. " _Are you sure that you wish for us to leave? What if this is a trap?"_

She understood his distrust but was nonetheless frustrated by it. Using Cybertronian to go behind her back?  _Really_?

" _I assure you that it isn't."_ Eleaniris answered, shallowly attempting to keep her testiness from showing. It was the first time using their native language, but it rolled off of her glossa with ease.

Jazz started, optics widening at her before turning to Optimus. The Prime nodded and gestured for him to leave.  _Why does she know how to speak Cybertronian?_

She had to compare the way that Jazz obeyed his commander's unspoken order. There were no threats or glares, unlike with Megatron. The relationship here, she could sense, was quite different and very refreshing. She had forgotten how savage Decepticon society was and it was nice to be with the civilised, if only for a little while.

Speaking of being civilised, it was time that she answered the gryphon. ' _The throne room, sweetheart. I'm sorry.'_

Optimus looked at her, obviously expecting her to start. It was her burden, since she had asked for a private discussion, but she didn't know where to open. There were so many things to speak of.

The only sound for a moment was Wilson shifting his weight on the floor below. She didn't have to look to see his nervousness.

"He left because he felt guilty."

Optimus raised an optic ridge and out of politeness he managed to keep himself from making any sound that would leave the impression of doubt.

He seemed friendly to her, and at this point that was all she needed. She had so much to get off her chest and the Prime had proven to be a good listener so far. Besides, she couldn't keep it locked up forever and Optimus had to know the story.

"I tried for months to get him to let them go - the slaves, I mean. I felt all along that he was keeping me to use me as a sex slave, even though he didn't treat me as one, and in the end that was what I presented myself to him as for the freedom of my people." She wasn't making optical contact with him and was instead leaving her optics unfocused at the air in front of her; all the better, given his look of shock at her sudden openness. He said nothing, sensing that she was going to continue, but did wonder  _what did he do, then, if not treat you as a pleasurebot?_

"He agreed and took me to his berth, but before interface he did something with our sparks." Optimus didn't bother with asking how Megatron could properly interface with a femme the size of his own spike, and instead helped her, "Did he push them together?" This was worse than he thought. Could he have initiated a  _sparkbond_?

"Yes." She looked up at him now, her optics inquisitive. "Is it normal to see memories during that and feel emotions afterwards? Even if they are not your own and have a foreign presence?" Megatron didn't know, thusly she didn't either. There was nothing in Megatron's memories to guide her on this topic, since the only femme before that he had wanted to bond with had been Circuitsia and that had never happened.

Optimus was silent, shock written plainly in the optics above the mouthguard and flustered she hastened to clarify, "I-I don't mean to be too open and you don't have to answer if its taboo or something." She was just jumping into something clearly too personal, wasn't she?

In truth the Prime was thinking, going through memory banks that hadn't been looked at in thousands of vorns, back to class on ancient theory. The instructor had mentioned something like this but called this level of sparkmatehood "unthinkable" and "impossible."

Conjunx, Endura, and Conjunx Endura. Just remembering the names helped him recall some of the details.

Then he realized that Eleaniris had spoken again, an apology. "It is quite alright. If you want to speak of this, I can as well."

She looked relieved. The poor femme was probably very, very accustomed to having to apologize for everything that she did. Though there were no physical marks present of Megatron's subjugation, there were plenty lurking beneath the surface. The once bold President had become an apologist Queen.

"You are sparkmates," he said in disbelief, "Conjunx Endurae experience what you have just said, with others that I cannot recall."

Her optics widened, "You mean that there are  _other_  things  _too_? Memory and emotion sharing are not the extent?"

"No." He was truly sympathetic for her. To be bonded with a monster, and out of a one-sided agreement for the freedom of her people (Megatron never kept his word) had to be a horrible, terrible experience. Her world did not deserve the ravages of the Decepticons - this was their war, not hers.

"Oh." She bit her lower lip component and her gaze fixated on his chassis, "But he left because he saw what he did. He felt guilty."

Optimus didn't know what to think of that. "He said that, as he was leaving, he was showing me how much he loved me. He apologized I don't know how many times, and backed down from interfacing."

"I don't understand how he could have changed so fast." She ventilated heavily, a clear sign of her dumbfoundment, "I mean, one moment he was the monster that enslaved and wanted to force copulation of my people, and the next he was the monster that left me with a destroyed home in his hurry to leave."

"He saw your memories?"

"I believe so," her white optics found his blue ones again, "I saw his."

"All, all he wanted to do was love me and me to love him." She sounded almost remorseful, but shook her helm. "You probably don't believe me. Not with the atrocities he committed to your kind."

He couldn't say that he did believe what had happened, but Megatron  _had_  left for an unknown reason and she claimed to sense his emotions. "I do not understand, but I do not have a reason to think that you are lying."

"You could not draw our designations from nowhere, after all." The situation was worse than he had thought it was.

This close Megatron's scent was overpowering but not the type he had thought it was. Now, with the knowledge that Megatron had wanted to keep her as a rightful mate, he could smell the specific, potent pheromones on her. It wasn't a casual scent from constant contact with a mech, but purposeful and meant to signal others to keep away. Never before had they found the dumped body of a femme who bore the latter scent.

It was a possessive mark, the mark of a mate.

"Thank you." She sounded reassured, but Optimus couldn't be farther from sharing that emotion. How much more did this femme know? "I would appreciate, though, if this stayed confidential."

"I understand." He wouldn't have told of it anyway, but he did comprehend her desire for secrecy.

Eleaniris set her folded servos in her lap and moved on. Bringing up her wishes for privacy had brought something else to the forefront of her mind.

"There is something else I must tell you."

* * *

Wheelie had had a disturbing lack of things to do since he had been given away as a present. Eleaniris was kind and sweet, and she didn't assign him anything. In Barricade's slave camp, he had been forced to work almost like he was a human himself. Here he was relatively pampered. Except for the massive Supreme Commander, there was little for him to worry about. If he managed to please Eleaniris, which he always did, he pleased Megatron.

That night a week ago, he had been online in the common room to see the bright flash of pink light that had streamed from the gaps in the panel separating the room he occupied and the room his mistress was in.

He couldn't recharge after that, and he noticed that the grunts and growls from Megatron had silenced. What happened? Was she hurt? Indecisive, he had awoken Borealis and together climbed down from the sectional. They stood before the miniature door, not sure that they wished to go in.

They hadn't but just before they were going to Megatron had burst through the enormous doors, shaking the floor and almost causing Wheelie to lose his footing. The colossal mech had plucked him up between two enormous claws his own size, holding him before his faceplates. He had been petrified that he had done something wrong and cringed to offline his optics in fear.

Instead of crushing or ripping him, Lord Megatron had said gruffly "Monitor her. I wish to have access to footage of her whenever I demand it." He had nodded vigorously and started to stutter a "yes" but the behemoth had ignored him, ordered the making of a communications button, and placed him down to leave without another word.

That was a week ago. Today, Eleaniris had ordered that he recharge for a little while and relax. He was afraid to because of Megatron's orders, since he had to keep his optics online for the Decepticon Lord, but he couldn't refuse his mistress.

He jumped online with a start, expecting to find Eleaniris nearby. He had searched the entirety of her apartment and awoken Borealis, telling her that their mistress was gone. The gryphon lowered herself and allowed the drone to clamber onto her back to settle between her wings. She pushed open a door easily with her helm and left through the suite's massive, open doors.

He almost fell a few times as she zipped through empty halls, since Eleaniris wasn't there to keep him steady, and was relieved when they finally reached the library. It was empty and spooky, but they had nowhere else to search for her. Where else would she go?

Borealis flew away again, evidently with an idea. Wheelie, stuck along for the ride, busied himself with keeping a good grip on the quick gryphon. He had a rather lightweight frame, and his legs couldn't properly straddle her back because of his size.

Before he knew it the blazing sun was overhead and the complete portion of the gardens was below. They had only begun to fly over the lawns, searching below and around for an Empress that had finally wished to go outside, when Borealis squawked and hurriedly backpedaled. She had turned around, maybe finally receiving information from Eleaniris about her location, and was almost back to the smaller side entrance they had come from when a sound like the swish of an enormous wing echoed from behind them. Almost startled out of his grab, Wheelie looked back.

An enormous swirling portal had opened up in the far edge of the unfinished dirt of the garden, something neither had seen before. Was it new technology that was finally ready for use? He had overheard Megatron speaking in his private office about a "groundbridge."

Wheelie, though, did not care about that as soon as he saw a lone mech stride out from the portal triumphantly, stopping as it closed behind him. Megatron was… back?

His glimpse was cut short as the gryphon zoomed right through the doors again and headed straight for a side entrance to the throne room. The poor drone had no chance, thusly, to recover from one shock as another was thrown at him.

Eleaniris, sitting in a palm that did not belong to Megatron. He could only guess that it was Optimus Prime from the mech's size and the symbol emblazoned on the frame. If Megatron was back, he would look for Eleaniris and find her with his archnemesis. Not good.

Not good at  _all_.

Their conversation had cut to silence when Borealis and Wheelie swooped in, sliding to a stop on the marble floor. Eleaniris shot them both a death glare, while the Prime looked intrigued and surprised. He was learning quickly that this palace could hold plenty of surprises.

She had to know about Megatron's return. "M-mistress, please lis-" he rushed to cut her off, but it was too late.

"Leave." Eleaniris' tone was as cold as he had ever heard it, " _Now_." The hard glint in her optics and her harsh voice said that there would be no argument, but he had to try. Megatron just might offline all of them if he saw what was transpiring.

After slaying the Autobot first, of course. Wheelie could tell that Eleaniris would be upset if Megatron did that - she always was upset when Megatron butchered in front of her.

"But the Em-"

"I  _said_   _ **now**_."

He shivered at the brutal cold of her voice and hurriedly Borealis followed the orders of her mistress, turning to leave at once but still were too late. Wheelie nearly restarted from fright when the doors opened and more Autobots nearly stepped on the gryphon and the drone.

He was fragged.

Borealis skittered out of the way, going back to where Wilson was standing on the floor. The Autobots had settled themselves all in front of the door and there was no way for them to get out. He could have asked them to move, but he would have been ignored anyway. Bigger mechs always ignored him.

Mirage, like the gentlemech he was, gave Eleaniris his gratitude for her generosity. The rest all followed with their own "thank-you" and she smiled brightly at their gratefulness.

"Optimus," the noble asked hesitantly, "Is there anything that can be done? We did not mean to intrude and merely meant to thank the President for her hospitality." Mirage obviously had not wanted to come in and possibly interrupt their conversation, from how uncomfortable he appeared. She guessed that the others had wanted to check on their leader - what she could do to Optimus was not much, but they did not know her. As far as they knew, she was a former Decepticon who had knowledge about their designations and lives.

They had no reason to trust her, no matter how much the Prime did.

"Do you wish for more privacy, madame?" Megatron never called her "madame." She was still seeing differences, and she wondered just how many there were.

"Yes, please. Feel free to look around." She couldn't anticipate how they would react to this, thought Optimus had kept calm and collected through her outrageous tale. The Prime looked pointedly at the Autobots, some of whom muttered along the lines of "we'll be in the hall" and left back the way they had come.

"Where were we?" she turned back to Optimus, that broad smile still on her faceplates, and Wheelie didn't like it one bit.

"There was something that you were told to show me." He thought for a moment, "Also something urgent."

"This was granted to me by the Primes, and they didn't say to show you in particular but rather that I would know when the time came." She paused, as if considering her words very carefully, "I confess that I do not truly comprehend its importance, even though I know it is very important, if that makes sense."

Optimus smiled gently, "Yes."

"I hope this is alright but I have to show you my spark, if that's okay?" The former guardsmech nodded, understanding her hesitancy. After an encounter with Megatron probably forcing her chestplates open, she might not want to show it to another mech, but she didn't seem to mind.

"They implied that if I showed you this," her chestplates split open, allowing the white of her tiny spark to spill out, "you would understand what was expected."

He marvelled at the size of the tiny spark as it pulsed and fluctuated, white light gentle and pure and showing no sign of being bonded with Megatron's. Behind it, though, was an astonishment he had not seen since he didn't know when.

The famed, legendary Matrix of Leadership, comfortably embedded in her chassis in its nest of essential cabling and wiring.

But, she had told him that the Primes had said she wasn't a Prime. She couldn't be - she wasn't "born" a Cybertronian. It wasn't right at all that she was carrying it.

"I think that I have it because-"

The doors creaked open behind them, an audial-splitting roar shaking the walls.

* * *

Megatron had paused before the doors to his own throne room, unsure that he should enter. This wasn't his home anymore - he had given it back to Eleaniris. He didn't know that she really wanted him back, but the happiness present in her spark made him smile. Was she glad that he was returning to her?

He certainly hoped so, and it did feel that way. Why else could she be glad?

He was thankful that he had come alone so that their reunion could be a private, happy affair. He wouldn't have to suppress his love to fit into the strict mold of the Decepticon leader. He was free to give her as many kisses and nuzzles as he wanted to - given that she was willing. The Decepticon Lord wasn't about to force himself on her again.

Mushiness invaded his spark, but he didn't much care. She would be the Carrier of his young - it was his pleasure to want to coddle her. She would be greatly doted upon, his pampered little Queen. No amount would be too much to spend on her, no luxury too great or too small. He wanted to express his gratitude for being allowed back and demonstrate that she was special.

What if she asked him to relinquish his position?

He didn't know which he loved more - Eleaniris or his title. How could he choose, and what would happen with his Decepticons?

What if she asked him to halt his conquering, even if she did allow him to stay as the Decepticon Supreme Commander? Subjugation was almost a vital process for him now - would she be alright with it? He  _itched_  to use his Infiltration Protocol and his Phase Sixers, just as much as he longed to merge with his femme, to have his way with his Queen.

He wouldn't be able to choose, but he didn't know that she would ask him to either.

Straightening up and making sure that he was shined properly for the dozenth time, he shoved open the doors and nearly turned around to leave as soon as he entered. Of all the things he had expected to see in his throne room, the last Prime hadn't been one of them.

Megatron's optics zeroed in, almost instinctively, on an almost-smiling Eleaniris showing a curious Optimus Prime her spark chamber. His response was natural, a well-oiled reaction from a well-lubricated machine, though he had rarely acted this primal before.

He roared, a bellow originating deep in his vocaliser, his processor and spark united in rage. His spark stung with pain at Eleaniris being happy because she was with Optimus, not because she was anxiously awaiting his return. He was caught between turning and walking away and throwing himself at the Autobot to fight for her - even if she didn't want him.

He was conflicted between letting Eleaniris choose a mate she wanted to be with and offlining anybot that got too close to her. Megatron sensed that he would cage her this way, yet he still chose. Possessiveness was in his nature - he could not waive it now, especially with Eleaniris in the servos of his enemy of millions of years.

Optimus hurriedly set Eleaniris down, unsubspacing his sword and holding it to the side in a noncombative but prepared manner. In his hurry to protect Eleaniris, the Prime failed to realise he was standing in the worst place possible - between an angry, protective mech and his much smaller, much more delicate mate.

It was unwise to stand between Eleaniris and Megatron, for he came across as more of a threat than he had been before.

After seeing the look on Megatron's faceplates Eleaniris had realised, with a great sinking feeling in her gut, that inviting Optimus here was a mistake. The moment Megatron had returned and snarled at the Prime, spitting in his fury, was the second that she remembered, if inconveniently, that Optimus had had a part to play in offlining a special someone.

Circuitsia, to be exact. Her question at the source of such powerful rage was what revealed it to her, an answer so simple that she could have hit herself in the forehead for her lack of insight.

Why didn't she see it sooner? She had literally watched Circuitsia's death happen and she had failed to recognize -

She was a Class-A  _idiot_  and a terrible person. What had Megatron thought when he saw her in his mate's killer's palm?

Shame penetrated her sense of happiness and shock at seeing him again. Though she didn't know what she wanted their reunion to be like, she didn't want this.

Megatron unsheathed his own sword and roared again, irate optics bright and his shoulders hiked up high and broad. He growled and charged forward, walking with mighty strides and clangs across the floor, charging his cannon as he went.

Her gears started locking up and she lost control over her pedes first, as if they were cemented to the ground, and the petrification travelled upwards until her gaze was locked on Megatron. His optics moved, for the tiniest of instants, to find hers amidst the chaos.

The result was immediate and he came to a stop with a squeal of metal on marble, leaving behind massive scratches on the floor. He kept his cannon locked on the Autobot but called to her desperately, "Come here, Eleaniris. It's safe with me." The warlord's tone was strained and heavy with worry that tugged at her heartstrings.

Optimus stayed stock still, not sure what to think of the tyrant's tone except that it might be a trap. He murmured down at Eleaniris, "Do not move, Eleaniris." Megatron's snarl grew larger and more ferocious at the sound of him using her name.

Wilson made the choice for her, locking two arms around her waist and pulling her to the side, out of the way of the clashing titans. The air was thick and electrical, as if a powerful thunderstorm were brewing overhead. Borealis followed silkily and silently, helm hanging low and wary as she carried a petrified Wheelie on her back.

For an instant, no one moved. Megatron's optics were swiveling between her on the sidelines and the Autobot in front, until he must have decided that she was safe where she was. With her out of the way his demeanor had shifted from protective and worried to sadistically gleeful at the presence of his Autobot nemesis.

The flexible metal at the corners of his lip components grew into a vicious smirk, fangs gleaming devilishly as his optics flared and the last remaining pieces of worry fell away to be completly replaced by hatred and veiled protectiveness.

"Leave her alone, Megatron." Optimus warned, "She does not want you."

"She  _called_  me back here,  _Prime_." His stance became self-assured, almost relaxed, in the way villains did when they trapped the hero in a corner.

Optimus' lack of reply prompted Eleaniris to call sorrowfully, "I did not mean for this to happen, Optimus. It was not my intention to set a trap. I'm sorry."

"I thought you weren't coming."

It was partially his fault, wasn't it? So much had happened between when he had received the distress call and when he had arrived, and she had no reason to believe that the Autobots would help. That was why she had given herself away in the first instance.

Megatron took advantage of the lapse in his concentration to surge forward, his upgraded frame forcing Optimus' back. Eleaniris stumbled backwards as well, partially from the strong tremors in the floor and also from fear. It was akin to seeing two huge apartment buildings suddenly decide to go at it, or being underneath two enormous, brawling lions.

Both of them, she realised, were trying to protect her. In a moment of self-absorption, she wondered  _what is it about_ _ **alien**_   _men and_ _ **me**_ _?_

Optimus had recovered to slash with his blade at Megatron, who spun and forced the Prime forwards towards the centre of the hall with a stab from his own weapon. The Autobot moved with such force, almost like a rag doll being thrown, that she contemplated how evenly they had been matched before Megatron's system upgrades. Now, though, she had to wonder how much stronger the Decepticon Lord was than his archnemesis.

Optimus groaned and went to stand up, but not before Megatron stepped on his blade and flipped him over with a powerful kick, effectively wrenching the sword out of the grip of the Autobot.

The warlord growled darkly, grabbing the Prime's neck and effortlessly picking up the several ton frame so that it dangled before him. She gaped, her jaw falling open at the sight of such awesome might.

 _All that strength,_ she thought,  _and he still is gentle with tiny me._

Eleaniris was yanked from her ogling when she heard the telltale crumple of metal. Optimus, his helm having been forced backward so that his optics were staring at the ceiling, was scratching and kicking blindly and ineffectively. Megatron had him pinned and the Emperor was intent on killing him.

"Stop!" She cried out, running forward and fighting Wilson's grab of steel, "Please don't hurt him!"

"He'll offline you," Megatron roared and then lowered his voice. squeezing Optimus' throat, " _ **just**_  like he did  _ **Circuistia**_." The disarmed Prime was gagging, scrabbling at the servo slowly crushing his vocaliser. But Megatron was stronger, still dangling the massive Autobot easily in his left while his right arm charged his fusion cannon.

He remembered now. The rage in his enemy's optics, the hurt, the pain, all made sense. That femme that had thrown herself in front of the blast, the screaming he had thought had been her, the roar promising revenge… He had thought that it was an accident and that Megatron had been threatening another battle though he had won.

The almost-forgotten battlefield was renewed, the memory as clear as if it had happened yesterday. That femme had been another mate, perhaps a different sparkmate, those agonized cries Megatron's, that avenging promised after the murder of a loved one.

Now the warlord thought he was protecting another mate from the same fate. He had already offlined one and the silver beast wasn't about to take chances. From his height he could not see Megatron, but out of the corner of his vision he could see the throne and the small cushion that sat before it.

Eleaniris was not a mock Queen - she was very much beloved. As far as he knew, none of Megatron's "pets" had made it out of his quarters online, much less sat on the same level (more or less) as the Decepticon leader.

Eleaniris was special and Megatron was infatuated. She was right - he had felt guilty and he had left because he knew he had hurt her. Optimus never before would have thought this, but after what he had seen today…

Megatron was acting as a good mate should.

He was slammed ruthlessly into the ground again, marble cracking under the force until he was in a crater, still pinned by the Decepticon. A treaded ped crashed down on his chassis, cracking his windshield and making him spit Energon, as the ex-gladiator effortlessly wrenched an arm upwards. He grunted from the tension in his shoulder as he was pulled upwards against the unyielding ped. Unlike his Autobots, whom he was glad stayed away, he had limited himself to the poor rations left on board the Decepticon patrol ship when they had commandeered it. Megatron had a full tank and had had one for some time, along with a few upgrades and a fully functional frame.

A servo clasped an odd, cuff-like device on his wrist and pressed a button. He wheezed, his vents hitching, as his frame underwent an odd sensation - like he was being subspaced.

Optimus looked around incredulously, still in a crater of black dust but a much larger one now. The Decepticon above him now filled his vision completly, the laugh cruel and so much louder. Before he could get up, a servo flew down and encompassed him in a fist. Megatron's servo.

The Prime did not understand what had been done to him, but he was now Eleaniris' size. The clawed, tight fist moved upwards faster than he was ready for and two large red optics greeted him, shining with malice. Slowly the servo began to tighten and the smirk widened. His armor creaked under the strain and started to dent, his vents stalling as the compression in the hydraulics-powered fist started to take its toll.

"Please! He won't hurt me!" She swatted Wilson's servos off of her and she broke away, running right up to the tyrant's leg. A small, reassuring servo stroked the plating, making him shiver with a strength that Optimus felt. He knelt for the smallest of seconds, just long enough to grab her in his empty servo and regain his height.

Whereas he was in a clenched fist, she was cupped comfortably in a supportive palm. She reached out with tiny servos to Megatron's faceplates and the warlord obeyed her unspoken request, bringing her closer to him. The Queen stroked and cooed gently, eliciting purrs of delight from the beast as the servo around him loosened a bit, leaving him in a restrained but much more pleasant position.

Megatron leaned into her touch, Optimus forgotten until she told him, "It was an accident. He didn't mean to hurt Circuitsia. He wouldn't do something like that on purpose."

He growled and his gaze went back to the shrunken Prime, optics hard with hate. "He will hurt you. I will not allow you to be hurt."

"But  _you_  hurt me." Another incorrect choice of words. The unforgiving servo began to clench again, glass clattering down to the floor from his broken windshield.

"That is why I must offline him." Megatron was speaking to Eleaniris but was staring at him, a predatory narrowing of the optics making him still. He understood how the humans felt now - such poor creatures. "So that you will not be hurt again."

"But killing him will hurt me too. I don't want to see this, Megatron. He was nothing but kind to me when he came here."

His spark wrenched at the hidden slap his guilt found in her words.  _He was nothing but kind to her when he came here._ His hate turned to jealousy, for Optimus was everything he wanted to be to Eleaniris. He didn't care what happened to the rest of the world, for they would meet the underside of his ped in his iron rule, but Eleaniris he wanted to be kind to. He wanted to be every bit as tender as Optimus was when he had come in to see the two of them speaking.

He wanted to see the smile that he had worked so  _hard_  to see on her faceplates. He wanted her to smile as easily for him as she had for the Prime.

Optimus wouldn't hurt her - he had had plenty of chances to kill her before he returned.

"Then I shall leave. If this was what you meant to show me when you called me back -" He was angry again, but seemingly with her and himself. Unceremoniously they were placed on the floor, just outside of the crater (she much more gently than Optimus) "- then I am wasting my time. I wish you the  _best_."

His words and spark were acidic and wrung her own spark like a wet rag, squeezing the sympathy out of her. The Autobots entered in a mad rush, probably having heard the shouts and had to come racing back, but Megatron took no notice of the shocked bunch that had barrelled in the door.

"You want him as a mate, Eleaniris, fine. Your intentions were not what I thought they were when you indicated you wished me to return." He paused, looked at the Autobots with a snort, and stared back down at her. His voice was no longer loud, but quiet and stinging when he said remorsefully, "I understand that you do not want me."

What he thought but did not say was:  _No one ever has._

He turned about and went back to the door, disgusted that he had fallen for such a trap. Optimus was the perfect mate; he wouldn't destroy her home, slaughter her people and enslave human children. He was every bit qualified to be Eleaniris' bondmate in ways that Megatron could not change about himself. No amount of wishing would change how time and his own actions had forced a wedge between Eleaniris and himself - if he could, he would go back and change how he handled things.

But he could not. To entertain such an idea was the first step of his downfall - he could not look backwards now. What was done was done.

Eleaniris heard what he had wanted to say,  _felt_  it through their steadily weakening sparkbond, and her conflicting feelings about having him back were washed away. She could only think of the sparkling that had been shunned from home after home, that had never known his Creators or a full tank. She remembered the memories Megatron had hidden from himself but could not keep from her, the ones where he lay in a deserted alley and wept for loneliness and his perceived worthlessness. She thought of the thrown-away child he had been, not the terrible, merciless monster that helpless baby had grown to become.

"No one has ever looked at me the way you do." She called, her voice light and sweet as she could make it as she spoke the truth.

Her music only stopped the savage beast in its tracks - she had yet to calm it. He growled over his shoulder, not looking at her but to the side, "No."  _Not the flattery again._

She continued in spite of his wish to deny her, "I am telling the truth this time. Please, even if you wish to leave, allow me to speak to you about… us."

"There never was an 'us,' Eleaniris." He jumped forward again, evidently eager to get out. She, on the other hand, had never wanted to hear one of his sappy nicknames so badly. There were so many benefits if he stayed and worked out a deal - her planet would be safe, the freedom of her people guaranteed, and maybe…

She would have the love that she had always wanted.  _They_ would have the love that they always wanted. No longer would she be sitting alone at galas, dancing with Wilson in lieu of a proper partner that was not one's friend. No longer would she attend baby showers and long for a child of her own. No longer would she feel inferior.

Her selfishness was catching up to her selflessness. She wanted to belong, and her opportunity was literally on his way out the door.

"There can be." Megatron halted again, half-turning to face her. No emotion crossed his faceplates, not until she nearly cried out her next words.

"Please, don't leave me like they all did."

She wasn't taunting or mocking him. Her pain and loneliness cut through their hazy and weak sparkbond like a beam of dark sunlight, hitting his spark with its agonizing energy. She was not lying to him this time in an attempt to get something that she actually wanted - this time, she wanted  _him_.

His sparkmate, his Queen, his Empress, his Conjunx Endura, his lovely Eleaniris  _wanted_  him!

He didn't care that the Autobots were watching or that his ped missed a diving Optimus Prime. All he saw was Eleaniris, the Empress of his Empire. He scooped her up with a gentle agility he had not known that he possessed to cradle her before his optics, drinking in every detail of her every feature though he knew them as well as his own fusion cannon.

"You want me," he murmured joyfully, now a statement and not a question.

"I want to give you another chance." She said softly, reaching out with steady fingers to stroke his cheek rim. Megatron purred and offlined his optics, pushing his enormous helm into a servo slightly smaller than his own optic. She sighed and continued to pet him, the Autobots still and silent by Optimus command.

No order, however, could make them pick their jaws up off the floor. Even Optimus was surprised at seeing evidence of Eleaniris' own story.

But Megatron was still cruel - he had threatened to crush him before. Eleaniris could not be left with the warlord, no matter how much he seemed to love her. The Decepticon leader had to leave Earth; it was the only way to keep the humans safe.

If he could only figure out the buttons on this strange cuff, he might be able to disable him with the assistance of the other Autobots.

Wilson, meanwhile, looked on with bewilderment at the exchange between his President and her once-enemy. What exactly had occurred on the night of the Decepticon departure she had kept vague until her recounting for Optimus Prime. He understood her reasons for keeping it secret - it was an uncomfortable subject indeed.

But she couldn't  _love_  him, could she? He didn't know whether to support or shun her for her apparent decision.

A murmur from one of the Autobots snapped Megatron out of his trance for his optics onlined with a flash and he turned, lowering Eleaniris to his chestplates and baring his denta in a snarl. They readied their weapons in response, blasters powering up and glowing.

"Please, don't start this again." She looked down at Optimus, whom had retreated to be nearer to the tightly-bunched Autobots, and called to him, "Please, make them stand down."

"It is obvious that there is much for the three of us to discuss."

Megatron and Optimus Prime looked at each other, the former with a sneer and the latter with grim wariness. Megatron did not wish to have any interaction with the Autobot commander but to bash his helm in or rip his spark out, and Optimus had long ago wanted to negotiate peace but the tyrant had betrayed him at every turn.

Eleaniris sighed, noticing the exchange from her place plush against Megatron's chassis. This was going to be a hard one, and she certainly hoped that Megatron would keep his aggression sufficiently in check so that he could hear her over the racket of his own hatred. Optimus would not be a problem - as usual, Megatron was going to be.

"Tell him how to regain his normal size, please," she murmured to him, gently petting the metal of his clawed thumb to entice his obedience. "If this is going to work, you are going to have to listen to me." He growled but did as was asked, directing Optimus through the correct procedures.

"Now," she said to the Prime, "please ask them to leave again. I promise this will not be a trap." The Autobots stared at her with distrust, but looked to their commander for the ultimate decision. She admired how their team was a true "team;" they cared about their leader. Only a few of the Decepticons cared about Megatron, and even then it was nowhere near the warmth that the Autobots had; the Decepticons were more about loyalty.

Optimus regarded her for a moment, his faceplates still as he contemplated the choice. "Leave us," was his command, though it was not spoken in a high-and-mighty tone as Megatron would have used. It was an order, no doubt about it, but it was not spoken like one. He seemed to walk the line between friend and commander very well, which she admired about him. Megatron would not be happy about that, but she would be sure that he knew that there were things that she admired about him too.

The oaf could get just as jealous as a sparkling that did not get his candy, and his potential for envy had only gotten worse since he had set his spark on her as a mate. He hid it very well with his cold clinical demeanor, but inside he could burn up from the intensity of its heat.

Silly mech.

All jokes aside though, Eleaniris knew that this was going to be seriously difficult and perhaps the most challenging negotiation of her life - it would be like getting Tesla and Edison to have a decent discussion, but if they were metal giants the size and weight of a four-story building.

"So," she cleared her throat nervously, or tried to rather, in an attempt to get them to break their aggressive staring match, "where shall we start?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I hope that I wrote the Autobots well - I focused on Decepticon characters an awful lot for this story, so I am not familiar with writing them. Please tell me!
> 
> Thanks to all of you guys! You are the greatest if you have read this far into this story!


	70. The New Big Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

Neither answered her question, but that had not been her intent when she posed it. It was meant to break their silent battle but it did not even accomplish  _that_. She had wasted five  _whole words_  in a negotiation in which Megatron's patience was already being tried.

If it was true that Soundwave could alter memory as Megatron's own memory banks told her, how long would it be until the Emperor's restraint was shattered and he killed the weakened Optimus Prime? He could simply erase her memory of his being here, and she would be as good as gold.

Her next words had better work.

"Megatron, I'm going to need a map of Earth."

No response from either of them.

She sighed and started to climb, sliding her fingers into gaps in his armor and hoisting herself upwards, thanking the Lord that her upper body was much stronger now as a Cybertronian than as a human (she was never one to take exercise easily, opting for portion control instead). The flexible metal of her lips pursed in annoyance, she slid over his shoulder and repeated herself into his audio.

" _Megatron_ , I am  _going_  to  _need_  a map of  _Earth_ ," she paused, looking to see if her words had any effect at all before tightening her grip on a cable and hissing furiously, " _ **NOW**_!"

Megatron growled, "Prime will  _not_  go in there. I cannot allow it."

"There's nothing in there, and you know it. It was all cleaned out." He turned to raise an optic ridge at her the look in his optics a warning, " _I take orders from no one."_

"Please?" She cooed, smiling enticingly, "For me?"

The Supreme Commander huffed in acknowledgement and headed for the door, leaving Optimus to follow. The ignored and forgotten gryphon, bodyguard and drone rushed to follow.

Eleaniris gently petted the neck cables next to her, consciously rewarding him for his complacency. "Thank you," the Queen breathed into his audio, grinning in amusement at the way the frame beneath her shuddered faintly at her touch and her words, "my Emperor." He smirked this time, plucking her off his shoulder as he walked to hold her before his lip components in an obvious request.

"You haven't earned that yet," she chastised humorously, playfully swatting him. "Don't rush me." He rumbled and settled for nuzzling instead of a kiss or lick, managing to keep walking evenly despite his obvious arousal.  _What can I do that_ _ **isn't**_   _arousing to him?_

 _Is it our bond trying to entice us to interface so that it will be sealed?_ She frowned - she may have reluctantly allowed him back, but she was far from ready to lie with him. She couldn't even bring herself to kiss him yet, with all of her mental scars…

Her briefly frisky behaviour melted away to reveal the gloom of what she had just lived through because of him. What her people had suffered because of his wishes was far too great for him to be forgiven, and he had yet to demonstrate a commitment to change. This could all be temporary, for all she knew. She hadn't sparkbonded with him again and all she had to go on, in lieu of memory, was the weak emotional connection that still lingered.

Optimus watched the exchange and when he nearly stepped on a group of smaller creatures in his distraction, he glanced at them to apologize quickly - yet his gaze was not fast enough to hide the pretty blue optics of the femme beneath him. He tilted his helm, his apology still in his vocaliser, as he took her in.

She was the one that apologised first, very timidly, and turned back to the group of humans she was with - the men he had seen with Eleaniris earlier. His interface-starved processor ordered for a whiff before he could stop himself, and that was just what he did.

 _Unbonded!,_ his base coding shouted with joy while his more advanced coding groaned a  _great._ The last thing he needed was to be attracted to a femme of Earth, a former human who had been stripped of her humanity…

A femme much smaller than himself, one who shared the Autobot optic color, one who smelled absolutely  _delightful_  and was just the right size to recharge on his chassis or in his new alt mode -  _I hope the seats will be comfortable enough_.

 _Silence,_ he ordered himself as he felt his codpiece tighten.

He forced himself to keep walking, though it was no easy task when his mind urged him to go back and grab her to keep her for himself.  _You are not a Decepticon_  finally killed his arousal and he followed at a safe distance behind the silent Megatron and Eleaniris all the way to their destination, eyeing the way the femme clung to Megatron's shoulder spikes.

Her attitude had changed. Was she regretting allowing Megatron back? From the looks of it, the way she was silent and sitting in the place farthest from his helm, she was reconsidering.

Through they went through the doors and hallways that had comprised the maze of Decepticon Command, turning through so many Optimus nearly lost track until they stopped before a pair of doors inside of a huge, cavernous space. Megatron entered a passcode and entered, not turning once to look at the Prime following him.

Megatron was far from happy at allowing his adversary of many millions of years into his own office, but he was far more eager to stake his claim to Eleaniris. What better than to allow him to see his...  _decor_?

Seeing the paintings with her own optics and her own mind was far different than before from Megatron's memories. She didn't know what to think of them, but here and now it was embarrassing. With a distinguished guest, especially.

And how many Decepticons had seen those renditions of her? The one on the beach was creepy and she felt nonexistent hairs rise on the back of her neck, but the one with her sitting on the pillow before his throne?

She was lounging in the same way she was in the beach painting, her body stretched out languidly on its side and her helm resting on crossed arms as she recharged on her plush cushion between the strong, sturdy legs of the Decepticon tyrant. Megatron too was in it, his fusion cannon on his arm as he stared straight ahead, imposing red optics bright and so real though they were paint. The arms planted straight on the arm rests, his servos gripping the edges, screamed as much about his power and virility as her position did about her submissiveness and fertility.

The painting was mounted behind his desk and immediately drew the attention of those in the office, most definitely a power play but she also made note of the sense of self-importance.

Why was she surprised, anyway? Shouts of  _all hail Megatron_ was not exactly  _humble_  praise. He wasn't modest, dictators never were; he just wasn't very flashy. He didn't "dress up," with jewels and other such symbols of wealth; he dressed  _her_  in them, gave her more than she would ever use. Would Decepticon femmes become a place for mechs to display their achievements? A stand upon which to mount trophies?

She had gone off on a tangent in her own mind again. Megatron had set her down and both of them were staring at her. How long had she left them hanging like that?

At least Megatron hadn't reached across the desk to strangle Optimus. That was a good start.

He had moved the monitor to a sideboard behind him and placed a single, flat circle on the desk in front of her. It was about the size of a coaster to him and he turned it on with a single wave over it with his servo, having noticed that she was paying attention now.

Then went back to glaring at Optimus across from him. Fantastic.

Eyeing Wilson, whom Borealis had brought up to a corner of the massive desk, she shook her helm in exasperation.

She looked up through the globe projected above her to the mechs towering over her, cycling air with annoyance. "Megatron, you believe that you are superior to humans, are you not?"

"Of course," was his reply, calm and collected as he continued to study Optimus.

"Then  _act_  like it. Stop staring." He broke the heavy gaze and peered down at her with a risen optic ridge and mildly surprised optics. "Unless you wish for this to last longer."

"And give me a hand up, would you? I'm not tall enough to touch this thing." He chuckled and plucked her up, holding her in a cupped servo out of habit.

Her digits being so small, she easily selected a few grid squares on the map to demonstrate her point, right between the coast of Africa and the east coast of North America. "All of the humans are moved into Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia."

"North and South America will remain Decepticon territory." Megatron and Optimus were listening, for once focusing on her instead of each other. The feeling of commanding two very powerful, very large aliens far older than herself was  _exhilarating_.

"The Autobots will remain within human territory. Humans will be terrified at first due to their experience, but should come around eventually. Soon, they will learn that you are there to protect them." Optimus was about to ask a question, she could feel it and so held up a servo, "Please wait until I am finished."

"Megatron remains as Supreme Commander and Emperor of the Decepticons," she could practically see him puffing up his chest - he could get so very  _full_  of himself when she was around.

"Optimus Prime retains his team and relevant titles and lives on Earth in peace." The digits supporting her twitched. She had tasted his thirst for Optimus' Energon, his daydreams about bringing her his helm on a grotesque stick. He wanted the mech deactivated at his pedes, displayed for all to see, desired it so very  _badly_  that it frightened her.

He wished for nothing more than to have all of the Autobots dead at the foot of his throne, his palace filled with heirs, her in his lap and the universe beneath his pedes. A very dark dream indeed.

And one that she feared he had the power to make real.

His armies were not weak, and completly united in his cause for world domination. He wanted to conquer, enslave, and destroy whilst she wanted to protect, free, and improve. This was  _bad_.

"Megatron will be allowed to continue, if he so chooses, his plans for conquest." The fingers stopped twitching while her spark sped up - she had no choice but to bribe him.  _Please, don't take advantage of me again._ "Are there any questions?"

The best way to win a negotiation was make it seem like it was already decided. She had made her demands short, sweet, and clear.

Megatron growled something under his breath but Optimus was the one to speak first, stating "This was not your war, Eleaniris. I am sure that your intentions are pure, but this negotiation is not one for you to have."

"Optimus Prime," she was unafraid to meet his gaze, standing her ground and defending her right, "you are correct in that this did not  _start_  as my war."

"Unfortunately, due to the actions and unprovoked hostilities against my planet, the utter destruction of my home and the enslavement of my people-" her tone was no longer factual in the face of such great anger over what had happened, but Optimus was not so distracted to not see the way Megatron flinched and looked away from her. After the display in the throne room, it shouldn't have surprised him yet it did.

"- this has  _become_  my war. Respectfully, Optimus, I have every right to speak when I say that this ends right here, right now." She stared at him, long and hard with optics that had been hardened with Decepticon occupation. "I hope you understand."

He dipped his helm, admitting to her point. "I understand."

"Excellent."

"May we speak alone, Eleaniris? There are a few sensitive matters that I wish to ask about."

She looked up at Megatron, stroking the servo beneath her. "You know he will not hurt me. I'll be okay, I promise." The warlord nodded after a moment of contemplation and placed her on the table, going back around his desk to the door, though clearly not happy with it. "A few minutes, nothing more."

Before Megatron exited he gave the Prime a hard look that growled in the absence of words  _She is mine._

She could have rolled her eyes at the testosterone practically dripping off of him.  _There is nothing to protect me from, you..._

 _Buckethead._ She nodded to herself and almost chuckled,  _just right._

"If he is the one who brought you into this war, why must Megatron stay? If the Decepticons had caused so much suffering on this planet, allow me to remove them for you so that the humans may retain their home."

She saddened and sighed, shaking her helm with a knowing smile on her faceplates, "The 'good guys' don't always save the day, Optimus. Maybe if someone had found the Allspark before the Decepticons did things would be different.

But this is real life, and I have to make due with what I have."

"You did not answer my question."

She stood, pursing her lips, "Megatron's army, if allowed to stay here and make this half of Earth their home-" Eleaniris gestured to the Americas, "They will protect us from external threats."

"There are far too many for you to drive away, Optimus. There are at least a billion of them now." She shrugged and stared up at the hovering projection of Earth, deep in thought, "if I must choose an evil, I will choose the evil I can control."

"Megatron has shown that he has potential to change, wouldn't you say?"

"Yet, if he is allowed to conquer and enslave other beings," he said sternly, "I cannot allow that to happen Eleaniris. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

She chuckled, not caring in the slightest how his jaw clenched in offense, "You're wrong."

"Freedom is not a right, Optimus. Freedom is a privilege that must be fought for, must be payed for. Here, in  _real life_ ," Eleaniris gestured openly around her, "Freedom is a blessing. It is a gift that we are very lucky to receive and are very quickly to take for granted."

"I want my people to have it back. But for them to regain it, I must lose it. Besides, Megatron's army is more than enough to protect Earth and I cannot take chances if they leave." Her tone softened and her optics followed suit, "You are sweet and kind Optimus, as are your Autobots, but you are not enough to protect us from the next invasion, and I cannot take chances."

"Are you not taking chances with Megatron?"

She stopped, her optics going blank with the expression of one who is surprised by a question. "I must confess that I," her tone was unsure, a stark opposite from its prior state, "don't know what to say."

"All that I can say is that I trust him, Optimus. I think I can, at least."

Wilson couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he still trusted her judgement. Whatever had happened that night, she would never be the same again. Optimus nodded, accepting her answer.

He had done some thinking on the way here from the throne room, contemplation about why the Primes had chosen her to carry the Matrix. She had said that they told her to show it to him and that he would know what it meant, but he only had a suspicion. He supposed that he would never know for sure what their intentions were, but he could only guess that they were trying to tell him that Eleaniris was the one to listen to. They were showing him to follow her. And the  _core_  reason it was with her…

Because it was safe within her. Had she been  _literally_  any other being in the  _universe_ , Megatron would not have hesitated in taking what he wished at the cost of a life - he had not before. Even if one of his most trusted officers carried it, Megatron would have torn it out regardless.

But he would not hurt Eleaniris. Megatron would protect it as a component of his mate. Within the Decepticon Queen, the Matrix of Leadership remained safe from Decepticon possession.

"Now which button was it," she muttered and walked over the surface of the desk, looking for the button she had never used but knew how to work. "There you are."

She stepped on it, opening the doors for Megatron to come through. A corner of his lip components came up into a quick smirk, his optics broadcasting love for the briefest of times before becoming guarded again.

"We must continue. Your troops will not wait long, Commander."

"What must ensue is a political game, Megatron. I know that you like those." She gave him a hesitant wink, unfamiliar with being this friendly with him.

He cocked his helm at her; evidently he wasn't so used to it either.

"Megatron, I need you to do something for me." She peered up at him with those tiny white optics, asking him for something with such trust in her voice. After having denied her for so long, all he wanted to do was something that she actually wanted, give a gift that she truly desired.

A servo was offered and taken, his Queen rising to the level of his optics. Eleaniris nearly melted at the way that those red optics stared at her with such yearning, the way the centers had enlarged and… dilated?

"Anything for my Queen," he practically purred, optics dimming as she felt him breathe in her scent.

The aperture of his lenses had changed, similar to how a human man's would if he was looking at a mate he liked. They were  _big_  too, and stared at her as if she was the only thing in the world. He  _adored_  her.

This millions-years-old creature, commander of a billion and counting, powerful conqueror of worlds, and articulate poet and leader  **adored**   _her_ , the simple President of the by-comparison humble United States.

_Come on. Stay on track._

"I," she reset her vocaliser, her mind lost in her reflection on the red glass, "I need you to protect Earth. To protect us."

He was quick to agree, murmuring gently, "Your planet will become our nest." He chuckled, Optimus' presence forgotten as his optics absorbed themselves with her, "You have witnessed how possessive we are, my dearest."

"What belongs to us," he purred, "will  _always_  belong to us." The undertones in his voice made him think that he was not speaking only of Earth.

"I was telling Optimus," she smiled back at the mech behind them, who had been regarding their little affair politely and without expression, "Autobots can protect them from any… rogues that find themselves across the border."

"You know that I will have to somehow explain this to my unmerciful Decepticons, my Queen." Megatron wasn't sympathetic - it was easy for her to forget that she was the smallest of small exceptions. He was very black and white with little to no gray areas -  _despite the color of his armor, that is_.

"Say…"

The women were mates to the Decepticons, supposedly a controlled reward pool for mechs that managed to impress Megatron. However, humans were also slaves. Maybe to some they would be pets.

But humans were not quick workers by Decepticon standards. They couldn't be, not with their size and weakness. She couldn't even argue that they were strong in comparison to the Decepticons, because they weren't. Metal would beat flesh every time. Perhaps…

"The pool of mates is being controlled and purged. That human labor was progressing slower than planned, and so they are to be quarantined and given out as rewards. You have better things to do, and so no Decepticons will be tasked with watching for them. Instead, yearly Decepticons will be approved by yourself to cross the border and inspect the stock. Easy."

"And the Autobots?" He raised an optic ridge, bloodlust mingling with the seriousness, "Unless you have changed your mind about their continued presence."

"What Autobots?" She smirked mischievously and winked at Optimus Prime, "You go back into space until we have hailed you to come back down. You will stay among the humans to, as I have said, protect them from Decepticons bent on finding a mate."

"You are a Decepticon, are you not?" Megatron smirked that dangerous, dark grin and she encouraged, for once, his lies. "Then act like one. Simple?"

"How deliciously...  _deceptive_ ," he purred, "You are quite the natural Decepticon, my flower." Optimus raised an optic ridge at the term, but he was once again invisible to Megatron and Eleaniris.

"I will remain here, with you, as your Queen. The Decepticons that have mates can keep them,"  _unfortunately there is nothing that can be done,_ "and you may continue to conquer."

He rumbled, elated that she approved of him. How far he had fallen to care about a femme smaller than his servo, yet he saw that he had also risen. Their sparklings would be happy ones indeed, with a Sire and a Carrier so content with each other and nestled comfortably in the Empire he would build for them, his Creations and his mate. She was perfect in every way, the best fit to be his Queen. It did not matter to him that she was human - she was his sparkmate and that was all that mattered.

Optimus, under the knowledge that the Matrix had been bestowed upon Eleaniris to guide him, agreed to the plan. "I will do as you ask of me, Eleaniris."

"Which brings me to another point." She levelled a serious gaze at Megatron, "He is not under your control, do you understand?"

"And if I hear of any of his team being hurt by you or a Decepticon under orders from you," her tone was low and as threatening as she dared to say, "your second chance with me, with Earth, is  _gone_. Kiss it goodbye." She didn't even have the means to push Megatron off of her home, but the warlord didn't seem to care. The threat was registering in the processor behind those red optics, which greatly perplexed the Autobot commander.

"Your war is over now, and  _neither_  of you won." She growled fiercely, though a tad more gentle with the Prime than the tyrant. Megatron started to argue, but she was quick to draw the line. "It's a stalemate. Learn to live with it."

"And Optimus," she winked, "I've got it from here. Trust me." There was a sparkle in her optics, something that made his processor lurch. It was no longer a question of whether he wanted to argue or not.

Because he would not.  _The Matrix is using her voice_ , he thought with awe.

"All of that being said, are we done here?" She crossed her arms and sat down, self-assuredly crossing her legs over the edge of Megatron's cupped servo. Dealing with this negotiation this way, with a few moments of her own humor, helped greatly with the stress on her shoulders. She barely remembered how heavy it was until she felt it starting to lift.

"Megatron and I have a few things to iron out."  _That means she has more to discuss,_ he found after a quick reference.

Optimus looked one last time at the way Megatron regarded her, the way he held her, the way his frame relaxed at her touch. He studied how Eleaniris sat so comfortably in the servo of a being who had slayed so many, but would not hurt her. He saw how Eleaniris winked at him without Megatron seeing and smiled reassuringly.

She did indeed "have it from here." She wanted him to help protect the humans and so he would, out of duty as a member of the race that had decimated hers. He nodded quietly, "I agree to the terms. I shall report to you, Eleaniris."  _Bearer of the Matrix and last leader of Earth._

"And do you, Megatron?"

"Indeed." He was firm and the hate still shone in his optics for Optimus. However, one glance told Optimus Prime that he would not fight Eleaniris on this matter.

Not when he was so eager to please her.

"I shall take my Autobots back to our ship. In the meantime, we shall await your wishes." He dipped his helm and walked out the door, placing his faith in the Primes' judgement and the Matrix bearer. If one did not hold by their beliefs, one had nothing at all.

"Thank you, Megatron." She whispered gently, turning to face him, "I know that was hard for you, but you are showing me that you can change for me." His spark blossomed at her praise, soaking up the happiness of his mate at it streamed over their bond.

Though Optimus was not technically under his control, he was still firmly under his claw. Perhaps not the most satisfying of defeats, but he was convinced that it would be worth it the instant he merged with his Empress, when he spilled inside of her belly the fluid from which their sparklings would form.

"I was worried, Megatron, for my people..." Eleaniris reached forward, the President stroking the cheek of a mech she wouldn't have even  _imagined_  two years prior. He was showing that he could be different, and if he really tried…

The Megatron that had conquered her home and enslaved her people would not be the Megatron she would call her Emperor years from now. So, with great hope that she was making the right choice, she finished her thought and added a gentle smile:

"... but I'm not anymore."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing this, I just thought of the title. It kinda came to me, how they were sort of like the "Big Three" from the second World War. I dunno. Maybe its just late.
> 
> I really tried to make this whole thing seem feasible, but chapters are editable for a reason. If you think I missed something here, tell me in a PM or review and I just might add it! ;)
> 
> Thanks, all of you! I can't put into words how happy I am when I see I have new reviews!  
> Also, want to see how the other Decepticons had picked their mates? "Dying of the Light" features Scrapper finding his ideal female after Megatron awarded him a choice.


	71. The Interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer.

The humans, easily the most important to Eleaniris, had been moved successfully. Megatron got a few kisses - out of  _actual_  gratefulness now - for how well his troops had been behaving around the newly-freed and still-skittish human race.

After reminding him of the loss of Lennox's baby and his fault, Megatron agreed quietly that the human men could leave if they wished. Burns and Lennox did leave, as did all of Nation, after extending their own gratitude to her and swearing secrecy to what they had heard and witnessed in the palace. Only Wilson, her ever faithful bodyguard insisted many times that he had nothing to go back to, and Simmons, who stayed for reasons he didn't say. She suspected that he was one of those who wanted a "piece of the action," or maybe because she was the President and it was a unique opportunity; Eleaniris wasn't really sure.

Megatron was quickly reprimanded when he had sneered at the news of the Sector Seven agent's residence - a swat to his curled lip had been all that he needed to get the picture.

Lennox and Burns had plans to assist the Autobots with their surveillance after she had explained the plan, Simmons jokingly telling them upon their departure to form the "Men in Black." Eleaniris didn't know if she was supposed to be worried that they didn't deny him. Ah, well. They did need some sort of Earth travel security now, since the Decepticon Empire was based here.

They would inform her of their plans later.

The humans had been moved using the Decepticon shuttles and warships, carefully counted and monitored. According to the population numbers first provided to Megatron (she had had to hunt them down, since he had hidden them from her out of something akin to shame), only 30% of what had been Earth's population nearly 2 years prior remained in the world of the living.

Over 5  _billion_  people… dead, fallen to the Culling, malnutrition, the cold or the heat, unsanitary conditions in the beginning and from the Invasion.

She had spent the next week on her own, only speaking to him in the most professional and necessary of times to give herself time to mourn and recuperate from the news. Even when she returned out of necessity, her stomach was still queasy when he touched her.

He must have sensed it or known what she had found, for he couldn't look in her optics during that week either. Not after having lived the life she had, seen through her eyes, and felt what she felt. She was beginning to see that he was genuinely shameful, not that she had cared at the time. Apologies did not breathe life into those that had passed because of his callous actions.

Time had, however, shown her that he was steadily earning his second chance. Only once had he asked for forgiveness for what he had done.

" _My Queen," he murmured, hesitantly and slowly taking her servo in his shrunken albeit larger one. "If I may, I ask your forgiveness for my past transgressions." He was embarrassed to ask and couldn't even meet her optics - the action itself must have taken so much of him, for it was so unlike him, in both words and tone._

_Which made it harder to deny him._

" _Megatron, as much as I would like to," she sighed and paused, wondering how to explain it while she gazed to the side. Megatron steadily caressed her servo and she was content to leave it in his grasp to prove her sincerity. He needed to believe her, and_ _ **really**_   _believe her, because she only wanted to speak of this once. "I cannot."_

" _It is… not my place." She bit her lip and her gaze slanted back to his, disappointment flickering behind the glass, "If I did so, I would be negating their deaths and the loss that all of us had befallen." He went to drop her servo, but she placed her other on top and squeezed. "I can only offer you a second chance to prove that you can change for us. For_ _ **me**_ _." Her back leant forward to catch his optics and she smiled reassuringly._

" _Please understand." He had nodded, gaze distant, and placed his other servo over hers to dwarf it in size._

" _I do." Megatron sighed, faceplates still emotionless, and tilted his helm to indicate the datapad before them. "What of your plans?"_

Organizing their relocation to the East was the easy part, however. It was how to deal with rebuilding that was the most pressing matter. If cities had not been rampaged by Decepticons, they had been virtually destroyed by abandonment, negligence and looting. She was very, very hesitant to ask him to have his troops make some structures or at least get the water and electricity working again, but she did have to voice the concern upon a visit to Johannesburg.

He assured that he could do something and just like any mech bent on pleasing his mate, he did.

After two months, the water and power grids had been updated and repaired in the major European and African cities. Rebuilding had been started as well, drones and construction vehicles distributed and assigned to each of the cities misleadingly deemed high-capacity "shelters." They did have to make it appear as though the human population was being grown and altered for mate purposes, after all.

When Eleaniris had asked how he had done it to ensure that his troops didn't rebel against such an odd request, he had replied with "bribery."

If they wanted mates, Megatron had said, they had to earn them through proving loyalty.

The perfect lie, evidently, since the work was done rapidly and without complaint. It probably wasn't hard for such technologically advanced beings to throw together some uniform, utilitarian concrete buildings. Farms were being operated and re-cultivated to host the species that they had prior. Factories and industry were also supervised to ensure re-growth, but human skittishness around non-Cybertronian, plain-old human technology was persistent - they had been taught to expect transformations, to regard every piece of machinery as an enslaver.

The age of the automobile was most likely over.

After suddenly being granted their freedom after having been slaves for so long, few wanted to fight. All they wanted was to rebuild, to help each other up and act like the unified species that they had become. Out of horror the likes of which Earth had never seen, the human race had become stronger.

Currency made a comeback, issued as electronic Shanix. When an individual received their equal shares, the slave tattoos and the nanotechnology within them were deactivated - without the drones working the system knowing, of course. Soundwave had placed it in there, probably out of Grace's wishes.

Rebuilding, all in all, was going well. Human industry, given the right tools, would work on its own. She had, after all of the Decepticons had left, set up a school system and representative government for the United Continents of Earth.

Megatron had pressed her for a plan regarding the mates, which she was loathe to write but knew it had to be done. It would be a lottery system, basically, with the entering mechs assigned a number. Around twenty would be pulled for consideration for a mate, and after a lengthy paperwork and registration process, perhaps receive a mate that was deemed a "good match."

It would appear that these girls were grabbed from the human "breeding pool" beyond the ocean, when in actuality they were volunteers. Families had benefits that could be earned should the woman be selected after completing their own vetting process, but it had to be proven that it was of the woman's own consent and initiative that she had volunteered.

She hypothesised that the rarity of a mech "receiving" a mate would improve the conditions under which they lived - it would make them valuable and therefore beloved. What she wanted to protect was the idea that the women were disposable and replaceable.

These "Challenges," however, had to be stopped. Megatron had put out a set of strict regulations regarding mated mechs and femmes and their protection, which he had veiled with the "importance of healthy sparklings and healthy mates to the Empire." The end result: the Decepticons were still brutes and still overtly possessive, but were careful with their mate if they had one. They didn't want to risk having her "repossessed" and "regifted" to another mech.

Not all sparkbonds were similar to the one that she had had with Megatron. The Conjunx Endura, once sealed, was permanent. The other types were temporary and could be severed. Knockout had explained this to the both of them after they had agreed to see him upon resettlement into the palace.

_The usually cool-mannered Knockout was exceptionally flustered and no doubt uncomfortable with reading something so… sensitive to both herself and Megatron. "Socially awkward" wouldn't be incorrect._

_He leaned against a counter across from them, casually crossing one ped over the other while Megatron set her on an expansive shoulder and seated himself upon a medical berth. He had started holding her less in his servos now, constantly conscious about how she was feeling which was a concern she appreciated._

_Megatron, whom usually acted with entitlement with everything else, was almost comically hesitant with anything regarding her. Longing burned in his red optics but he could scarcely bring a claw up to touch her, and even if he did he did not linger long. He always asked how she was feeling or if he could do something better, and her spark wrung slightly at how much his skittishness reminded her of his looking-to-please childhood self._

" _The Conjunx Endura, the highest blessing upon the pair, is the rarest of them all. Though one may have multiple Conjunxes or Endurae in one's lifetime, there is only one Conjunx Endura. The Destined Powerful will experience a pull towards one another from the Spark, though their helms deem it Wrong."_

" _Destined Powerful?" She had echoed, cocking her helm at a similarly curious Megatron and nervous Knockout. "What could that mean?"_

" _Destined to be powerful," Knockout said with a return of his haughty self, "naturally, my lady, with your mech."_

_She rolled her optics and Megatron chuckled, hesitantly and quickly petting her helm. His touch wasn't as terrible as it used to be. "That does sound correct," he rumbled with his gaze remaining on her, "though_ _**I** _ _had no qualms about having Eleaniris as my mate."_

_He purred suggestively, but she caught Knockout's disgusted shudder. In a burst of sympathy, Eleaniris asked, "What else does it say?"_

_Knockout's displeasure didn't go away, and she understood why after he said, "The Sparks are opposites yet contain similarity, for it is the wish of Primus for the numerous resultant Spark-lings to experience love from their Creators in a unit."_

_**Numerous**_? Oh good grief.  _She had a sinking feeling in her gut that she knew where this was going._

_Megatron revved his engine and tried to nuzzle her, a sensual glint in his optics. "My my, precious," he purred, "how many will you give me, I wonder?"_

_She wasn't thinking when she snapped back to try to rid the air of suffocating sexual tension, "You assume too much."_

_Shame came across his faceplates and his look evaporated, replaced with one that ghostily represented the rejection he had worn as a youngling. Immediately she had regretted her words._

" _We'll see," she whispered out of guilt. Hadn't she always wanted kids, anyway?_

_He still didn't look at her._

_Knockout reset his vocaliser noisily and went back to reading, shifting the position of his pedes, "Upon and after the formation of the hallowed Spark-Bond, the pair may experience and continue to experience the sharing of data and memory Files, through which the pair services their Bond."_

Thanks for telling me this.

_He went on to clarify their other "benefits," not once removing his gaze from the datapad in an effort to avoid seeing the overly-affectionate couple before him. In moments of extreme emotion they would have access to the other's visual feed and there would always be detailed emotional communication between their sparks._

_And, of course, her increased reproductive capacity due to their compatibility and closeness. Megatron was outwardly thrilled and couldn't keep himself from giving her a few kisses, but neither could she keep the small smile from her faceplates. Maybe the presence of her sparkmate was speaking, but she did like the sound of having some kids._

Eleaniris still smiled, looking up from her desk at the fireplace of her own apartments. Since Megatron's return she had enforced a barrier between the two which she believed helped keep their relationship on ice for the moment.

" _I will not interfere with your duties," he had said genuinely, care shining in his optics, "your term comes before I do, as much as I hate that."_ She had been able to see in his faceplates the strain that was taking place in his emotions and on his control. Megatron was not accustomed to denying himself what he desired.

All the more evidence that he was changing.

The ring on her finger, however, sparkled his promise to her - he would wait until the conclusion of her term to take her "servo in marriage," as he had said. She had agreed, finding that about a year and a half would be sufficient time to judge his progress.

Not once had he gone back on any deal with her. Daily he pointed out progress on his - their - city, now being constructed at a much faster rate with Cybertronians instead of humans doing the work. Cleaning drones had replaced the human servants, but she did find herself missing human contact a litte. Nothing in their agreement said that she couldn't visit the other side of Earth, however. She could use a holoform once Megatron taught her how to use one to supervise. There was a disguise to be kept up.

Since their agreement had been struck he would arrange little outings for themselves, mostly surprises that incorporated the little things she had always wanted on a date. He never got too "feely" with her, not after what had happened on…  _that_  night. Neither of them spoke of it, but they could sense that the other knew.

Irregardless, she couldn't call their dinners or trips "dates," per se. That implied that you were getting to know a possible partner, but she already knew Megatron inside and out. She was only waiting to see if he showed any signs of regression to his callous, cold, clinical, bloodthirsty self. So far not. He had only been sweet on their vacations and in the notes in-between. The content of his poetry was admirable and lovely and never failed to make her spark flutter. His patience with her had yet to wear thin and he never tried to pressure her into sharing his berth.

All of these things led to her satisfaction and eagerness for the events of today.

Grace's knock on her door made her smile and tear her gaze away from her engagement ring (finally a real one) and she went to part the doors. Susan had requested to leave - something about meeting an Autobot and not being able to stand Decepticons - leaving only the mate of Soundwave to attend her.

She had agreed to marry him on the first wednesday following the first monday in November - the day after elections would have been held for President. Her term was over.

What a  _relief_. Last night Megatron had invited her into his own suites for a few drinks, giving her a sample from his special stash of Iaconian high-grade. She had been with him until the clock had struck midnight, officially ending the rollercoaster that had been her first and last term.

When she had returned she had considered tuning her special vidscreen to see what the humans were saying about her, but she decided not to. It was too painful.

Grace knocked again and she hurried to get the door, forgetting about her people for a moment and the lie that had been told to them.

"Are you ready, your majesty?" Grace smiled, her own engagement ring twinkling on her left servo as she hefted the bin of polishing and cleaning materials on her hip. "Megatron's finally agreed to let you see the dress."

Had she really forgotten about  _that_ , of all things? She was so busy she had forgotten about the one thing she had looked forward to picking for her wedding… And she had allowed  _Megatron_  to choose it? Would it even be a dress or a glorified stripper's outfit?

As much as Megatron seemed to have changed, he was still a mech.

The dress flaunted her dread, for tt was stunning and everything she had wished it to be.

Her dream wedding dress, that costly store-window model, was  _hers_  to wear. She had to touch it to believe it, her mouth open in a gape. Diamonds had been somehow interwoven with the fine, hair-like fibers that made up the skirt, the trail long, silky, and also diamond-studded. The neckline bared the tops of her shoulders and her clavicle but covered the topmost portion of her arms in a precise capsleeve.

Grace had helped her shimmy into it, the fabric light and breathable - how pleasant that she no longer sweat - and easy to move in.

"You look like a Queen alright," Grace smiled, crossing her arms and nodding in approval.

"Thank you Grace," she nearly murmured, mesmerised with her reflection, "I will return the favor when the time comes."

* * *

She hadn't picked any bridesmaids, having agreed to a private wedding with him on the empty, green Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. He had only allowed her to choose the location, and the rest had been his choice - not that she was unhappy so far. It was… nice for a man to surprise her in a good way. He had seen her desires for a wedding anyway - he was simply proving that he was capable of taking her wishes into account, which made her warm and fuzzy inside.

He was already there in his shrunken form when she arrived with Wilson on her arm. Soundwave dipped his helm, datapad in servo with the script at the ready. It was only the four of them here, and Eleaniris realised that she had forgotten to have a ring made.

But perhaps that was the intention on Megatron's part. She couldn't see him wearing one.

There was not a shred of doubt or uneasiness in her frame when they exchanged their vows and he placed that ring on her finger. Her spark fluttered when his optics rose to hers and he said sincerely,

"With this ring I symbolize my eternal love, its ununtrium the strength of our bond." It nestled perfectly beside her engagement band. She hadn't planned anything to say, but it was clear that he wasn't following the typical plan for weddings. Megatron was trying to flatter her, a realisation that made her happy for once.

"With my bond I present you my Empire, for you have presented me with yours." He kissed her servo reverently, "Your honor is my honor, your pleasure mine."

"I swear by our love that I will bring planets to your palms and stars to your eyes, though my care cannot be expressed with these quantities…" He kneeled to look up at her, taking both of her servos while Soundwave and Wilson were held transfixed,

"For my love is infinite, like the countless planets and stars themselves." Megatron had, indeed, been a poet to spin such beautiful words. Her chest felt light and, though she didn't have her wings yet, she thought that she could fly.

Soundwave nearly missed his timing and uttered with remnants of shock in his voice, "You may kiss the bride."

Kiss her he did, with a force that betrayed his tenderness and passion but also his thirst and need. The incessant pushing told her that he wanted so much to put his glossa into her mouth to intertwine with her own, but was fighting valiantly to hold himself back. His self-restraint was not a trait she had seen often, but in his arms she recalled with a confusing rush of anticipation and dread that she had a  _wedding night_  ahead of her.

She hoped that she lived to see it through, for if the servo that fondled her through the dress was a precursor to her night she may not. There was no doubt that he was ready to consecrate their marriage in the traditional way and the thought of the underlying power in his kiss coming forth tonight, like a beast unchained, made her shiver with the paradoxical cocktail of anticipation and dread.

Megatron could not be considered a weak lover, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was short, but it is literally called "The Interim." Meant to be a filler, and you guys know what's up next! *wink wink*
> 
> Not enough of your favorites? Fear not! I plan to write a little, ongoing book of random drabbles and one-shots using characters from this story and, perhaps, their kids.
> 
> That being said, I would like to extend an offer for Cover Art for this story. *Jumps up and down* If you have any ideas, please feel free to shoot me a PM on FF. The person with the best idea gets a drabble of their chosen topic! (If I get any suggests, anyway.) *shrugs*
> 
> Thank you guys for waiting so long. I was working on a alternate ending for this story while I was writing this chapter, and I had specific things that were hard to work out for this. If you think something was missing or doesn't add up right, please mention it!
> 
> Thanks for waiting you guys! I do feel kinda bad for keeping you waiting this long.


	72. The Berth of a Tyrant Revisited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE RATING HAS RISEN TO EXPLICIT. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 
> 
> See Prologue for disclaimer. Another chapter filled with sexual innuendos and… other things. ;)

She could have sworn that Megatron was feeling her up through the seat in his cabin. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but the metal beneath the slight cushioning - which he had added shortly before getting her, yet another mod he had installed for her - would flex at odd times, as if she was shifting when she wasn't. The ruffles on her dress weren't so think that she couldn't sense the movement.

Sneaky bastard.

She could see the palace now, gleaming brilliantly as ever under the blaze of the overhead sun, but still reprimanded him when she felt it again. With a sharp swat to the side closest to her, she scolded "No cheating!" To clarify and cut straight to her point, she added "I know what you're doing!"

The pressing chuckle echoed around her, cool and amused, and she huffed in frustration and opened her mouth to reply.

The jet instead interrupted her, a smirk in his voice, "And what would that be, precious?"

Her optics narrowed as he continued, " _This_?"

Thin feelers emerged from their niches in his plating, cables as thin as a human hair, to twine around her limbs and bind her in place. Chuckles reverberated around his cabin, originating from no place in particular, as he unabashedly caressed his bride.

Though she thought it annoying -  _he isn't going to get enough tonight?_  - he wasn't bad at it. Far from it. The flight ended all too soon in her opinion, but she would never say such things to Megatron. He was aroused enough as it was; she didn't need to feed an already engorged beast.

Or that  _other_  engorged beast, lurking somewhere in his alt mode.

As the dictator transformed she had to suppress a shiver. While the time spent apart had severely affected Megatron's affection it had also affected her in a mild way. It might have been the tendencies of their sparks to want to bond, but she also felt that he processor was slowly getting on board with the idea of Megatron.

He was changing for her which had resulted in unexpected arousal on her part. She dared to even call herself  **eager**  for the berth for what else could explain her disappointment when Megatron took a turn where he usually didn't on the way to their quarters?

"Where are we going?" was the inquiry that came out before she could stop it.

The helm next to her turned slightly to eye her, a coy twist forming on his lips. "I understand that we agreed on skipping a reception, but there was only so much I deviated from your wishes." Their wedding had to remain a secret, after all, for Megatron's reputation was at stake. He needed to keep up his appearance as a hardened and cruel leader.

Flabbergasted, she turned her wide optics to stare at the wall passing on her right as he walked. "I didn't think that-"

"That I would consider what you wanted? That I could place something other than warmongering  _above_  interface, for once?" He expelled a warm vent quickly in a Cybertronian snort, "You will find yourself surprised often if you continue to think this way  _my_  Empress. I  _do_  have a little something planned for you."

Her jaw fell the rest of the way to the floor, but her spark flew to the sky in its contentedness.

"However," the Decepticon leader purred suggestively, making her cheeks flush out of habit, "I would not get accustomed to temporary negligence of libido on my part,  _precious_."

Empress Eleaniris gulped at his insinuation partially out of dread yet mostly out of - dare she think it?

_**Lust.** _

* * *

The palace had undergone much rennovation since Megatron's return. For one the palace floors had been repaired after Megatron's rather one-sided fight, but other, greater changes had since occurred.

Most of Decepticon Command had been phased out into the newly erected complex just outside of the palace's finished wall, leaving the previously occupied space empty. She still was debating Megatron about its future use (she didn't care how many kids they were going to have, the palace as it was was far too large), but irregardless there were far fewer occupants.

Thereby the medical bay had been downsized drastically. Once, while Eleanicon was being built, it had served as the primary space for treatment - not that it had been used often - but this purpose was now obsolete. Even now it was strange seeing the formerly huge space less, well, huge. As new as it was, the countless pairs of metallic, feathered wings laid out for display on one of the few berths left did not escape her attention. Countless shapes and sizes, all proportionate to her stature. Knockout stood by, Sophia perched on the countertop beside him, and greeted Megatron with a bow.

"As you ordered, my liege." He gestured with a servo to the multitude of options. Eleaniris gaped at him and then at Megatron, who watched her with an expectant look. Sophia was wearing a little smile.

"Is this really…" she began, awestruck at the possibility.  _Is he actually going to allow me to_ _ **fly**_ _?!_

"In addition to being a medic, Knockout is considered specialised in aerodynamics." He offered her a servo which she boarded in an open-mouthed trance. Slowly it was lowered to the berth and he had to nudge her forward to prompt her to move. Shock was keeping the relays in her legs from working.

"Consider this my wedding gift," he smiled gently, retracting his servo and stepping back.

All of the wing prototypes had something in common, she slowly realised, in that all were modeled after Earth birds and fowl. Traditional wings that she had seen on the Seekers were not even offered here.

"How did you know-" She started to ask just as he went to explain, staring at two pairs that she liked in particular, placed (she thought purposefully) first and foremost. Slender, long but not too long, with large feathers. She crouched to read the label, fingering the card lightly.  _Probably Sophia's handwriting_ , she thought in a daze.

He interrupted her at the exact same moment she started to ask, only to answer her question. "It is my duty to know which you would prefer." Megatron leaned forward only slightly, aware of where his shadow was falling and how close he was to hovering, when he read the identification of the bird she was so fixated on.

 _Pandion haliaetus._ Osprey.

"I would never keep you from the sky, dearest, especially since you may never be able to transform like myself and our eventual creations due to your human origins." He cocked his helm, "Additionally, do you not deserve something special to distinguish the Empress from the rest? A crowning jewel out of many?"

She didn't argue, for it would be pointless. Megatron tended to fixate and any effort to diversify his attention was moot unless one was not direct, though she did appreciate that he followed through on his deal to get her wings. "But I didn't get you anything," she protested weakly, craning her neck to look up at him.

Sophia and Knockout stood by, watching, as Eleaniris was at last receptive to Megatron's advances. Both the latter and the former took note for future use, although for entirely different reasons.

"But you did." He purred, lip components twisting into a devilish grin that for once held no malice, only mischievousness. Eleaniris raised a quizzical ridge.

"Yourself," he clarified with a coo, "That is all that I want."  _Oh, I think you want more than_ _ **that**_ _. Especially if that look in your optics is anything to go by._

"I could lose my riches, power, and empire, but I would still be wealthy so long as I have you." Stunned, she could only blink as he kissed the top of her helm gently and asked if she had decided. Sneakily he sent Knockout a warning look, faceplates flashing into a formation that screamed danger, that he was still the ruthless Decepticon leader that demanded loyalty from his underlings.

Knockout help up his servos in submission and fear, all too aware that Sophia was watching.

Eleaniris nodded dumbly and stood from the splayed Osprey wings, stepping into Megatron's offered palm and sitting down. Apparently she still underestimated his knack for sappiness.

Without so much as an utterance to the medic, the Decepticon Supreme Commander left the medbay with his mate in tow. Knockout, still shocked beyond words at such odd behaviour from his cold leader, wasn't capable of replying when the jealous Sophia said both teasingly and seriously,

"You had better step up your game."

* * *

The guards parted the doors with crisp, well-disciplined movements that they always had, but the air was as if they had sensed that something had changed. Megatron had told no one of their wedding - save for Soundwave, Grace and Wilson - or that he had yet to merge with her, but the indescribable feeling that permeated the atmosphere was definitely there - or perhaps it was her nervous mind making it all up.

Megatron was eager, of course, but fighting not to show it. She could see it in how he walked, his gait quick and snappy like the prowling of a dangerous feline. He had every right to want to consummate their marriage, even if it meant nothing to him and everything to her - the fact that he had waited so long spoke to how much he wanted her to want him back.

At the very least everyone else was gone, staying somewhere else in the palace in one of the numerous empty rooms. Soundwave and Grace, Thundercracker, and Knockout and Sophia were the only ones that remained within the palace - the rest had been forced to move out. She knew that the two officers and medic all had estates being built somewhere - perhaps one of the Hamptons. Regardless, they only stayed because they were of use. Megatron hadn't been happy but she had convinced him that they should, since it was someone to fill the too-large mansion.

He compromised his desire for a secluded, enormous estate of an overlord for her comfort and, by extension, friendship with Grace. She suspected that he had ulterior motives, but if the writings about Conjunx Endurae were to be believed that ignorance would not last long.

Megatron paused before the final door and glanced down at her, concern and worry in his optics. "I'm fine," she said for the millionth time. He continued to scrutinize for a few moments before finally entering his own berthchambers.

It hadn't been set up this way before, she knew that.

During the year and a half that they had lived together yet apart, Megatron's suites had slowly been decorated and upgraded from their rather spartan state. Massive, sheer curtains had been added to filter the light coming from the windows, as had sheets that would drop down to block light and therefore hide anything going on within - her own insistence. Though it was only early afternoon, it appeared to be deep into the night within the massive chambers.

The countless candles around the padded berth - a recent addition, though she had yet to use it - only added to this notion. They hadn't been there when she had walked out with Grace, and neither had the cubes of high-grade or white rose petals sprinkled atop the berth.

A symbol of purity.

"Are you  _sure_ , Eleaniris?" Megatron startled her even further, raising his servo to his optics, "I need to hear it."

There were things that she had begrudgingly respected him for, be it his intelligence, strength, leadership skills, and humble beginnings, but the restraint present in his red orbs sparked such great admiration that she nearly forgot his question. He wanted so desperately to throw her down and jump into the foreplay, but was holding himself back just for her.

Just for her, even though she had shown no regrets at all.  _But_ , she supposed,  _I didn't last time either._

Knowing all too well that actions spoke louder than words, she smirked lustfully at him as she bent to place not a peck, not a kiss, but a  _long_ ,  _slow_  lick to the underside of his jaw. The thundering purr that resulted befitted a wild animal, not a sentient mech, but she supposed that that was who they would soon be.

She wasn't even shocked when she sensed her port flutter in anticipation of her beastial ravishing.  _I am just as done with waiting for this as he is, aren't I?_

_I've been waiting for this my entire life, just as he had with Circuitsia and now has with me._

The Decepticon tyrant stared at her, optics dilated with hunger.

"Well?"

He didn't need further affirmation and returned the favour, slowly extending his glossa to give a short lap to the side of her face. He rumbled, openly licking his lip components at her taste, "Do you wish to disrobe or  _be_  disrobed, my mate?" A claw petted her back, clarifying his meaning.

Although the thought of having her dress ripped off of her was growing increasingly appealing, she didn't want to trash it as Megatron was insinuating. She had spent too long pining after this dress for her mate -  _so strange, that word -_ to ruin it.

"Please, allow me to take it off. Just set me down somewhere."

He set her onto the berth as she asked and she hurriedly reached around to yank her zipper down, thanking her newfound flexibility. She didn't even think about trying to sexily slip it off - there was no need to further seduce the hulking mass of warlord standing before her. The hot arousal was so potent that she could smell it wafting around her, thick and heavy, and it didn't help matters that she was on level with his pevlis.

Her dress was plucked it up before she could grab it and set down carefully on the nightstand before Megatron climbed up into the berth and simultaneously pushed her onto her back. A humiliating squeak escaped her before she could stop it, and then his mouth was on her. His lips pushed incessantly against her much smaller ones and she sank into the new padding as he continued to kiss her, engine purring.

He would accentuate his overlarge caress with careful, possessive nips from sharp fangs and licks from a smooth glossa that had her melting beneath him. Her prior experience however told her that it was merely the beginning.

How  _exciting_.

She had her interface panels open before he even asked, baring her still-virgin port to the eager and thirsty glossa and intake. He helped wet her as he had before with his own drool, carefully coating her most sacred of places before commencing to eat it out, harvesting its juices as he replaced her scent with his own. Every lap rocked her frame and slightly lifted her hips with its mighty force and took all that she produced with it back up to the yawning mouth. Megatron's purrs betrayed his animalistic nature as he attacked her valve with a vengeance until a loud, breathy moan drew itself from her vocaliser.

Then, with a mischievous grin fixed at her from between her legs, the start of a torrent of slobber part way down his chin, he gave her one small, slow lap and paused for a few seconds, only to repeat the process. Soon Eleaniris was frustrated at his lack of speed but refused to show it.

It was not as if she was having regrets or even remembering the circumstances under which this had occurred a year and a half ago. Stubborn pride was its source.

She growled after the fifth lazy lick, but didn't dare buck. Lust may have dominated her helm, but there was only so far that she would deviate from her dignified persona. Like hell she was going to beg.

As much as she acknowledged that he had changed, the tiniest part of her would always think of him as her enemy. She had told him as much when she said that she could not forgive him - after the atrocities he had committed both on Earth and abroad, both to her kind and to his own, how could she? He may be a gentle giant with her, but she had seen proof of the persistent existence of the tyrannical and dominating part of him.

There were plans for further subjugation of other worlds, the start of Megatron's plan to conquer the universe. A while ago she would have scoffed at the idea and dismissed it as delusions of grandeur, as an impossible dream in which he would miss every shot he took - but now, after bearing witness to memories and to what he had done with far fewer Decepticons and without space bridges, she wasn't so sure. Earth wasn't the first planet to be stripped by the Decepticons, even if the Infiltration Protocol had only been written recently. Even if he didn't get the whole universe, she could see him ruling many galaxies.

After steeling herself to make sure that her voice wouldn't turn into a moan, she breathed "Megatron."

A hum came from the enormous mouth between her thighs, shaking her frame, and the large red optics swiveled from her belly to her with inquisitive light shining in their depths.

"I never told you why I allowed you to continue," she paused, not trusting herself to speak while his glossa went down for another lethargic lap that still lifted her, "your conquering, did I?"

No response, but the tip of that long, thick glossa did worm itself into her opening, cramming as much of itself in as it possibly could without tearing her seal. She bit her lip and shuttered her optics, letting the snake consume her lubricant and drink of her juices, stretching foreshadowing what was to come.

"Well I-" Abruptly, with speed that he had lacked for the past several minutes, the tip of the glossa yanked itself from her and came up to her open mouth instead. She gagged as Megatron, still his unaltered size, forcefully tasted his Queen as she tasted herself.

Evidently he didn't want to talk now.

He growled with lust, the long length of glossa not stuffed into her mouth dripping slime onto her bare chassis and steadily creating a pattern of droplets. The rest of it was forced into her mouth, seeming to fill it up faster than she could swallow the thick goop. She protested when he nudged the opening of her intake playfully and slowly he retracted himself from her, leaving her mouth and lips slightly sore from the girth of his silver appendage.

Eyeing the drips on her chassis and how delectable she looked, panting and limbs askew beneath him, he purred and started rubbing his cheek rim over her belly. To Eleaniris he resembled a cat, scratching a cheek or expressing his content.

Then it was back to licking, slathering her in his never-ending supply of drool with licks that pushed her into the padding with their strength. She was being subjugated by a  _tongue_ , an instrument of taste and ingestion, and it was driving her arousal to levels she hadn't thought existed. There was nowhere that he didn't end up passing his glossa over, though he spent most of the time with lavishing his attention on her torso and face, of course.

After thoroughly licking and kissing her chassis, she saw the tongue come towards her faceplates yet again. Deciding that she was tired with playing the swooning, limp maiden, though still too dignified to do anything too bold, she intercepted it just as it was about to lay itself over her face.

She kissed it, her lips quickly coated in thick slime as they pressed against the hot silver metal of Megatron's enormous glossa. A surprised thrum shook her, some of the lubricant finding its way between her lips. She was shy and he had once been her enemy, but this was also the wedding night - or afternoon, rather - she had been waiting for her entire life. Finally she was about to end her loneliness and in so doing end his as well.

Therefore it was no surprise when she supported the slippery underside with her servos, opened her mouth, and allowed her petite glossa to lick affectionately her husband's  _much_  larger one, no longer disgusted by the now-familiar taste of his slime and happily consuming it with small quick licks. With a contented purr of her own she shuttered her optics and rubbed her cheek on it, as one might a soft blanket, willingly adding yet another layer of drool to her face. Megatron's thrumming grew louder, the sensors beneath the plating providing him with her succulent taste as she, from his perspective, worshiped his glossa with the humble offerings of her own.

She moved away, lifting the limp tongue upwards so that the tip was level with her lips. Under her unbreakable spell she took it into her mouth, locking her lips around it and sucking firmly, her glossa stroking furiously the dominant one as it filled her orifice. A revv came from his engine, coalfire-red optics flaring with passion, fixated steadfastly on her. When she drew away, a thick string still connected the two of them and she severed it with a finger, consuming that as well to feed the raging lust in her spark.

The next purr made the last one pale in comparison, the beast shifting downwards to further bring his helm within her reach. She dropped the glossa and he retracted it as she sat up and brought her slick legs under her, coming up to kneel before his face.

Eleaniris smiled gently, raising both servos - wet from the oral lubricant of his glossa - to set them on his cheek rims. The red optics watched her like a wolf's but dilated like cat's as she leaned forward and pecked him, right on the edge of his nasal ridge.

Her lips had barely parted from his metal when his helm barreled forward, throwing her once more onto her back.

A few moments later Megatron once again settled himself over her, this one only a foot or so taller than she. After enveloping his Empress' delicious lips in several hungry, open-mouthed kisses, the Emperor rumbled huskily down at his mate, "Are you sufficiently slick for me, my Queen?"

"Which part of me," she sassed. Slowly she was growing friskier and friskier, as if Megatron's attentions were in fact an infectious disease. Her valve burned with the desire to be filled and her rim twitched, wanting its mate's spike. "You drooled all over the place."

He chuckled, low tones wrapping her in their warmth whereas they had once been threatening. "Then you must be ready," his faceplates lowered, his nasal plating touching her cheek, "although you should be advised that I would not mind wetting you a little more." Eleaniris rolled her optics and turned her helm to the side, a small laugh emitting from her vocaliser.

"Of course you wouldn't."

He returned her chortle, sitting back from her slowly. "Yes," a servo reached to remove his pelvic plating, "but you are mine to enjoy for the rest of our lives, precious."

Megatron amended his statement not a moment later, "Nay." His pressurized spike emerged, bigger than she recalled, and the mech it belonged to puffed up his chassis and armor with pride, "Not even death could part us."

She smiled in awe, unable to compare this mech with the one from three years ago, back when she was an accomplished, lonely President. So sappy towards her, that had not changed, but now so  _protective_  of her planet instead of destructive. It was as if the beast that was the Decepticon faction had taken Earth back to its den, carefully carried in its jaws like young instead of harshly like a meal. There it settled Earth in its nest to push it against its belly, protected and warm as an egg would be.

She could only be thankful. Even if Megatron had never destroyed Earth so as to render it completely defenceless, they would still have been vulnerable to attack from other aliens. Now Megatron was rebuilding Earth, not in Decepticon interests per se, but also in human interests. Humanity wasn't something to be enslaved any longer - now, she dared to guess that most mechs saw them as a source of mates, a place from which to pluck femmes from their vines. A valuable resource indeed, which was why they now were so bent on safeguarding them.

Talia had made a unique observation a few weeks ago, something she should have seen for herself but had been far too focused on short-term to analyse the big picture.

" _You know what's going to happen next, don't you?" All of the femmes that had remained had been sitting out in a gazebo before the small lake, a part of the gardens. Borealis and Wheelie, as well as Ravage were nearby. Kimora, Grace, Sophia, and Talia, her close friends from before the "Liberation" had managed to clear time in their schedules to meet up._

" _What's that, Talia?" Kimora asked politely, picking up her glass of flavoured Energon. Bonecrusher had heard about how she missed the variety of human drinks and had found a way to flavour fuel safely, an excellent business idea that he was meeting with merchants about now._

" _Well, as soon as you get pregnant," she gestured to her brazenly, making her quirk a ridge at the boldness, "and Megatron then allows all of our mechs to knock us up, we might as well get used to having kids all the time."_

_The only sound in the gazebo was Kimora, in the middle of a drink, sputtering her Energon back into her glass._

" _What?!" Sophia asked with a rare lack of composure, though adequately voicing all of their confusion._

" _Think about it," Talia sat up on her silk cushions, gesturing with her servos and not the least bit frazzled, "all of our mechs spent millions of years running around space, seeing their race slowly start to disappear whether it be by dying or scattering. They thought that they were on the brink of extinction."_

_They all exchanged looks of realisation._

" _Now, even though they are far from going down in history as extinct, they have us." Talia didn't sound the least bit perturbed, but she wasn't eager either. "Us, femmes that will easily conceive and build their young."_

" _The memory of endangerment is still fresh in those processors, ladies," Talia paused, "and what does a group of nearly-extinct males do when exposed to viable, healthy, young females?"_

_Another pregnant pause._

" _Breed, and keep on_ _ **breeding**_ _."_

Just as the hulk of a warlord between her legs was intent on doing now, from the pride on that face.

"Which position would you prefer for your first time, my beautiful virgin bride?" He was thumbing the inside of her thigh again, his flared armor an obvious way of proclaiming his self satisfaction at the prospect of breeding soon. He claimed to be  _so_   _superior_  to human men, but he still had a dose of testosterone much too high for even his immense size.

Eleaniris cocked her helm, not expecting this choice. She had expected him to make the decision - sex was very new to her and he never hesitated to take the reins anyway. Why was this suddenly hers?

Her inner beast of lust made the choice for her and before she could take it back she asked for:

"All fours."

Megatron's ridges came up in a rare expression of complete surprise as a sharp laugh burst from his mouth.

 _What the hell was that?,_ she berated herself, though her spark was literally not in agreement with her protest.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks even though Cybertronians didn't blush and she only grew hotter when Megatron commented, "So frisky and exotic for your Emperor, hmm?"

"So delicious and sweet," his circles reversed, going from clockwise to counterclockwise, "yearning for my spike." His monster of an appendage twitched against her thigh as he laid himself over her.

She snorted, never having been one for dirty talk.

"Nevertheless, are you sure about this?" His expression betrayed only seriousness. This wasn't a joke anymore. "You know that I will not force you."

"You will never give me to Tarn?" It wasn't said like a question, but he answered it irregardless.

"Never." He purposefully rubbed his rod against her curves, her sensitive inner thighs shuddering, and nuzzled her faceplates. Megatron murmured, "You will  _always_  be  _ **mine**_ , precious flower, and I do  _not_  give away what belongs to  _ **me**_."

 _There_  was the Decepticon that remained within him, the overwhelmingly possessive tyrant. He sloppily licked one of her cheek rims in a gesture that reeked of selfishness and lust, proving his point by marking his property.

Or so she thought that it was a mark.

He made a trail of kisses, each followed by a swipe of his glossa, from her jaw down her neck. "This will hurt, precious, but it will mark you as mine." She blinked, hazed by arousal and confusion.

He clarified when a tender kiss turned into a vicious bite, right where her neck met her right shoulder. She gave a sharp yelp and his heavy lower half came down to pin her beneath him, like a mouse beneath a lion's paw, and shoving her further into the padding. Carefully, slowly, those sharp fangs started to bend a small piece of protoform armor away to give the smallest of glimpses to the cables and wires beneath. It stung like hell and she felt as if skin was being peeled off of her like wrapping paper, away from her flesh.

Megatron stopped before the wound grew too large, licking gently to help relieve some of her pain. He was inherently cruel but leaving his mate hurting was unnecessary, even by his standards. Though he had softened he had not grown  _entirely_  soft. If he knew that his Queen would never know of it, he would gladly torture and kill captured Autobots for the pure joy of it. He had no qualms about yanking out sparks with his own servos, pulling limbs from mechs, feeling Energon splatter over his chassis after smashing an opponent's helm in, but the sight of his Queen squirming and gasping from pain was bothersome to him.

He would be cold and harsh to the rest of the universe, but never to his pretty, harmless, tiny little mate.

Seeing that she was relaxed, having realised that he would not peel back more, he bit off cleanly the portion he had bent upwards. She screeched at the pain and he murmured encouragingly, "Shh."

She panted, trying and failing to shift her hips under his hulking mass. "I didn't think that," she gasped when he got the hint and lifted himself from her again, "you were into love bites."

"Does my little mate want  _more_?" He licked his chops suggestively, "No part of you is out of my reach."

"I think one is enough," she said as he bent to lap up the Energon that had trickled from her small wound, glossa tickling her wires and making her frame shiver of its own accord.

"For tonight," he added with a nod, which wasn't what she meant. Ah well, she  _had_  asked for all fours. What were love bites after asking for something like that?

"But you never answered my question," an enormous servo cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek and dwarfing it in size. "Are you sure?"

She gave pause, looking away from him and to the opposite side from the servo caressing her helm. It was only a hunch that she had that he had changed - what if he hadn't? A year and a half was a grain of salt in comparison to his millions, and it would be easy to deceive her for so long only to flip around at the last instant. Maybe he still had plans for humanity to be culled and bred and culled and bred into the perfect slave or the perfect pet, as he had planned after he had freed them the first time.

All of this could have been a ploy. Would she wake up with this Megatron tomorrow, the one who whispered sweet nothings into her audio when she wasn't expecting them, or the Megatron from several years ago, the one who had sanctioned his mechs to "fight" those that weren't even a challenge in a battlefield that might as well have been a playground for his forces to celebrate their victory.

She shuddered to think of the latter. She had never been one for life sentences in the capital punishment debate, thinking that a person's true nature could never be changed. The death penalty was better for everyone else involved. Would tomorrow morning highlight her doubts, make her want to kick herself for not seeing it sooner?

But he had shown no sign at all of regression. He didn't hate humans anymore, from what she could see. One could always question what they knew until they didn't know anything anymore, which could be a reason for the prevalence of conspiracy theories. Would she endorse self-doubt or self-certainty? Would she believe her own eyes and ears or question everything?

Would she hope for the future and finally get what she had earned, or fear for the future and get nothing of what she deserved?

Those optics above her were never good at guarding the love from her, and they weren't guarding anything else right now. She had wormed her way into his spark and mind and no longer could he hide anything from her.

All she saw was love. Deception and agendas had no presence there. If he had been about to get what he wanted, wouldn't he be excited? Wouldn't there be an inkling of impatience for something other than sexual gratification?

Yes, there would be. There was nothing to gain from leading her on. Even if he got sex this one time, he knew how unhappy she would be afterwards when his deceit collapsed of its own weight. For what it was worth he had never taken a femme without some twisted ounce of willingness.

Besides, he wouldn't give her wings only to strip her of everything else.

Following her spark, Eleaniris sat upward on her elbows and whispered into his audio with a tantalizing flick of her glossa:

" _ **Frag**_  me."

She didn't think that Megatron could puff any farther but he certainly did, his armor flaring with testosterone. "As you wish," he rumbled with a smarmy grin, copying the cheesy line from her favorite romantic comedy.

Before she could even laugh the Decepticon overlord had taken ahold of her hips in a servo which dwarfed them and flipped her over with a rough strength that stalled her vents but heightened her spark's lust. He then sat back on his knees, allowing her to get up onto all fours. A few hours ago she might have frowned at her disgraceful behaviour and her almost-whorish position, but knowing that just made her all the more lustful. Forbidden territory was incredibly  _alluring_.

She wasn't herself but she had been bitten and infected by a bug of passion. Her spark was tired of its mate being so teasingly close yet so very far away, and it wanted to bond  _now_.

He rumbled powerfully, mounting her once she had settled and making her grunt under his mass. Knowing just how much his weight was a burden, he set a servo on either side of her helm to support himself - his frame much taller than hers even in his shrunken state. He could probably set his chin on the top of her helm while simultaneously lying atop her if so desired.

She shuddered, feeling him give a few testing prods to align himself. The periphery of her vision allowed her to see his face, one full of raging lust and the last remnants of self-restraint. "Last chance," he warned. As if to prove his point, the spike nestled between her folds twitched, sending a jolt up her struts.

Eleaniris snorted a ventilation, rolling her optics. How many times had he already asked for consent? She appreciated his hesitancy only to a certain extent - it was possible to care so much as to be bothersome. Her voice took on a rare, snarky attribute when she nagged, "I  _thought_  that I was  _clear_  when I  _asked_  you to fr-"

Then he snapped his hips forward, not even grunting as he buried half of his impressive length within and obliterated her hymen in the process.

The force of his first, singular thrust spoke volumes to her and knocked her arms out from under her, forcing her face and upper chest into the berth with a dull thump and an embarrassing squeak from her vocaliser. "Powerful" wasn't strong enough a word to describe his action, and neither were any of its synonyms; if she were human, the action would have snapped her hip bones in half like cheap plywood. Instead, in her Cybertronian state, she was forced to try to adjust to his sudden overlarge presence within her lubricated, abruptly strained valve. He was only getting started, and his first thrust had her vents stalling in the aftermath of the inhuman strength of his mighty hips and the overwhelmingly full sensation in her port - though not all of him was in there quite yet.

But who was she kidding? Megatron had never been human, and with this start was sure to out-compete every sex story she had ever heard from her wild roommates; he would make the best of the human men - bodybuilders, athletes, models - hang their heads in shame and defeat, for there was no way they could outdo this giant metal conqueror. Especially not with the length and girth of the spike that was making her processor swim in the hordes of data of pleasure and pain that were streaming from the sensors in her valve, as well as twisted anticipation and lust.

It was hard for her to even comprehend that it had actually  _fit_  into her, and even harder to understand why she hadn't ripped when he had thrust so hard and abruptly. Then again, he hadn't even filled her yet - at least the sharp pain at losing her virginity was drowned out by the pain of the forced stretch around his impressive girth.

"Megatron," she groaned, aborted statement forgotten, "please be careful."

"You have such low expectations of me," Megatron rumbled into her audio, "You offend me, my Queen."

She snorted, too caught between pain and pleasure to argue with him, her voice strained when she asked "Just… stretch me. Please."

"Naturally," he purred with immense masculine satisfaction and began to roll his hips from side to side, drowning in bliss from her spasms as her calipers tried in vain to clench around him. She was so small that she was almost  _too_  small and her strength was admirable. However, he knew it wasn't pleasurable yet and wouldn't be until he had "ruined" her, made her port unusable for any other mech.

Only when she was stretched that far could he finally commence his interface and clang his Queen as he had imagined in the past weeks, until she went into stasis from charge and collapsed from the power of his rut.

Even then he wasn't sure that he could stop. He could go on for hours with his stamina. However, tonight was for one copulation and then bonding - they could have frag marathons later.

Eleaniris went lax underneath him and he shifted an arm to hug her waist to him, supporting her should her knees give way. If that happened he could tear something when his spike ripped out of her, and though he so  _desired_  to start his frag and bury all of himself within her he was even more loathe to hurt her.

Sensing that she had relaxed, he drew himself back a modicum to push back in and envelop more of himself in her tight channel. His spark felt engorged with lust and heat, his engine ticking up a gear.

She whined, the stretch almost too much for her to bear. The sensation of impalement was only too real, each of the ridges on his spike caressing her splayed calipers through the mesh so that she could feel each and every one. Her rim strained to accommodate him, stretching wider than she would have thought possible, the calipers barely able to manage the tiniest of twitches.

Aware that he was giving her time to adjust to his overlarge size but also feeling that she could control his depth, she clenched her abdomen and pushed back against him, willingly further impaling herself on her conqueror's spike with a cry. The sooner she was stretched, the better this would be. Besides, she didn't want to take chances with Megatron's patience. If she was going to be torn, it would be on her own terms.

Megatron purred with approval, a sound deep and husky and overwhelmingly masculine that would have sickened her a year and a half ago but only heightened her lust now. The thick, powerful arm around her waist pulled her tighter against him, coiling a servo around the edge of her hip as well as the cobra tightened its hold on its prey. He sank in deeper as a result, only a quarter of his spike left waiting to join in her heat. She panted, the padding under her hot from her quick, shallow ventilations as she voluntarily submitted her frame to her ruler. They may be equals, but here it was clear that she was both literally and figuratively  _underneath_  him, servile and subordinate.

She nearly groaned with passion at the mere thought of it, her processor drunk on love.

He resisted the urge to yank her back and start thrusting like a mech-turned-animal but he could sense his hold on his control releasing. Megatron was still the master of his frame, as he had used to his advantage when dominance-fragging a particular errant Seeker or using his berthtoys, but Eleaniris was his mate - he was allowed the luxury of interface without facades. There was nothing to hide anymore for they each knew the other's secrets, and his frame itself seemed to know that. As a result, the sensations of rhythmic clenches around his spike, her warm and  _tight_  valve fluttering around him, the feel of strained calipers trying to fight his unyielding rod, opened relays that told his body one thing and one thing only:  _frag_  her.

He would have preferred that Eleaniris didn't have access to knowledge about exactly how he had modified himself before her Coronation, but she might not have even known that she knew.

The more for her to find out later.

She hissed as she pulled more of him into her, her belly feeling as if it couldn't cram any more of the breeding tool within her. Her valve stung, on fire as she tested her limits, reaching her through the haze of lust. Coolant ran down from one optic as she gave up on trying to fit all of him into her. She was far too small for that, and as it was her legs were quivering. Surely this was enough.

 _But_ _ **is**_   _it?_ Her spark questioned, blind lust in its voice.  _Are you going to_ _ **give up**_   _on this on your_ _ **first**_   _go?_

"Eleaniris," he warned, practically drooling on the back of her neck as he bent over her, "If you continue to do this I will lose -"

Despite the burning pain that came from the yank, she bowed her helm and bit her lip and threw herself backwards, taking him to the hilt. Lubricant from her overstuffed port trickled in a small stream down her split slit to drip onto the padding below. A white petal collected the drops, stained a faint pink from the mix of Energon and lubricant.

She shuddered beneath him, taking care to focus on the rim of her valve. So far so good - it was strained, nearly to the point of breaking, but the delicate metal had yet to tear. A sense of accomplishment, a proof of her inner strength, filled her spark and it stopped pressing her.

Meanwhile, Megatron gave up on fighting his spark's lust with his processor's reasoning. He had used sentiment more often than logic to stir up rebellion in Kaon, for he knew that speech to the spark was always louder than speech to the mind.

This moment, in which he lost nearly all control, proved to himself how right he was. Now he knew only his lust in his groin and the pinned, helpless femme beneath him, clenching around his aching spike. His engines roared and his fans tried to keep up, his legs bracing themselves to dig into her, to take everything he possibly could and still  _more_  as base coding took over his processor.

He drew himself out so that only the head remained and, with a victorious roar that shook the candles around them, dove back into her. Lubricant splattered across his thighs and her aft when his pelvic span hit her backside with a vicious clang, making his first thrust look gentle in comparison. Eleaniris cried out, her legs threatening to collapse under her as she was shoved forward. The arm tightened still, Megatron barely registering that he could feel the movements of his spike through her protoform armor, so steadfast was his grip that pulled her back securely under him.

He humped with reckless abandon, each brutal shove harder and more powerful than the last, and Eleaniris' calipers struggled to appease the invader of her port. She tried clenching her abdomen to sate him, yet not even this worked. He thwarted her at every turn, every plunge that proved beyond a doubt his masculinity. All she could see was the berth beneath her, her forehead pressed into the padding.

Only at this angle would she have been afforded the terrifying sight of the effects the tyrant was inflicting on her frame. She could see the steady dribble of fluids that fell to the berth in thick drops, the powerful legs supporting the likewise strong hips currently dealing her pleasure and pain. Even though her helm was so fogged that she could barely see, no glitch could have made up the sizable bulge in her lower belly that each unyielding thrust produced. He was so big that he was literally  _carving_   _out_  space for himself to fit, making her frame submit to his own.

If this was how all Cybertronians interfaced, with such passion and lust, it was no wonder that Decepticons considered the larger mech in a couple the "Dominant" while the femme or smaller mech was "Submissive." It was all about molding someone to your will, being so strong and powerful that even the other's frame would give in to the Dominant's desire. A complete domination of both body and soul.

Megatron huffed above her, heat making condensation collect and run in small rivulets down the center of his back. Recalling her forgotten nub, he effortlessly lifted her so that her knees came off the berth, not relaxing his tandem in the slightest. She squawked in alarm, not so sluggish that she couldn't sense the most basic differences in position but far too gone to form a  _single_  word.

After shifting positions so that he was entering her at an even deeper angle, he started to aim for her node with quicker snaps of his hips. A sensual cry from his mate underscored his victory when his pelvic plating struck home. Grinning, he hunched over her and dared to open his chest plates, releasing an EM field that crushed her with its strength. Even though he was shrunken, the field hadn't changed - it was still the charge of a far larger, powerful mech. In this moment of base coding, all he could sense was his mate on his spike and her willingness to be subjugated - as a tyrant, nothing was a greater turnon and it spurred him on.

Eleaniris moaned endlessly, the drone punctuated by sharp shrieks when he hit what used to be her clit. Her knees collapsed as he still increased his speed, her rim threatening to rupture as he rutted like a beast, thrusts rapid and short, for the sole purpose of a brood. Something was building up in her belly, an unfamiliar tension, but with everything else going on she paid little attention to it. There were far too many sensory stimulants to note every detail.

Megatron purred as she gave in to his nonverbal demands, her body offering itself up as sacrifice to his own endless pleasure. It didn't affect his pace whatsoever when he was suddenly supporting both her weight and his own, for he could sense that there was something there, something within his reach in her port, with every hard snap of his hips.

An end to her virgin valve and the opening of her chamber. He rumbled, a bestial idea taking hold in his processor. The fact that it was his Queen he was fragging had fed his charge, making the interface brief just as it had made it hard. She was crying out, moaning and whimpering yet begging him for more, for completion. He would give it to her as soon as he -

Triumphant, he puffed up his chassis with accomplishment when the head of his spike hit her gates. Yet he still need a little more to get between them.

Growling with primal frustration as the short-lived sense of victory fell away, he sat back and plopped his lax Queen into his lap, her frame weightless and manipulatable like a rag doll. All the weight off of the single arm that had been occupied with holding the both of them up, it now secured its servo over her hips. He hadn't the time to marvel at how his servos overlapped, their size making his Empress's hips look small though they were not, for he was far too enraptured with the thought of stuffing her full of transfluid and sparklings to spare attention for anything else.

As it was he pulled her up and then yanked her down, the force creating a marginal tear in her rim that drew a wail from her. Over and over he did it, her own weight, his own strength, and the aid of gravity allowing him to batter her final entrance. Even as he slammed into it it would budge only slightly, refusing to grant him access. She gasped, vents quick and ragged, when the spike in her felt as if it was enlarging in her already-packed valve. Requests to go into stasis filled her internal display - if he kept this up, he might just force her into it. Every brutal hump slapped her anterior node, stretched her wider than she thought possible, made her try to clench in vain, brought coolant to her optics at the burning pain coupled with crippling pleasure, ended by a sharp pain when the rutting warlord smashed into her cervix. Then the tyrant would drag out, sensors in her valve picking up on every single bump and ridge on his already huge spike, and repeat the process all over again, each time making it harder for her to stay conscious as he humped mindlessly like a wild beast.

She wasn't unhappy, not necessarily, she thought blankly as he relentlessly jerked her down for another savage shove. The fact that she was being banged senseless was making the primitive female inside her very, very satisfied. The more advanced side only masked the other, since it was in agreement. She came to the conclusion, in her less-than-acute mind, that she  _wanted_  this.

She  _wanted_  him to take her like an animal. She  _wanted_  to be fucked.

Yes, she was fulfilled. The pain wasn't so unbearable so as to override the pleasure, even though she knew by now that she had ripped her port. Perhaps her spark was blocking the pain, numbing it to encourage her to keep breeding.

 _Yes,_ was all she managed in her stupor,  _That's it._

Frustrated the Emperor tightened his grip, bending the metal of his mate's hips, and lifted her off of him, admiring the sight of his spike covered in her slick lubricant. Timing it just right he brought himself up to thrust just as he yanked her back down again. If not for his own senses Eleaniris' scream would have told him that he had succeeded. He stopped, his Queen's aft firmly settled in his lap - he had what he wanted, and he wouldn't dare try to continue his thrusting and ruin her gestation chamber.

Far,  _far_  shorter than what he usually needed to be sated, but he could release himself now. Going any farther would, even if he wasn't lodged within her, hurt her. He didn't want to frag his Queen until she offlined as some of his berthtoys had.

A split second of Megatron's purring of immeasurable pleasure reached her audios over the sound of his thundering ventilations, only to be ended by the roar that threatened to deafen her.

She was greeted by a punch to the gut as her own overload - the term came to her from Megatron's memories - coursed through her frame, only exponentially worsening the harsh sensation of thick fluid flooding her belly. It stung when it hit the top of her womb and poured down her sides in copious amounts, a constant stream of liquid. She waited, resting in his arms, leaning back against him. Moving a servo down to her belly, the once-human felt the bulge of her invader's spike as it bent outwards her metal. She knew better than to try to remove herself just yet, for he had somehow lodged himself in her cervix and any sudden movement would seriously injure her - even if that weren't the case, her spark wouldn't have let her move anyway. It liked her just where she was, sitting obediently in his lap and impaled on his spike as the seed of sparklings was shot directly into her womb.

Eleaniris waited for it to end, Megatron's and her own ventilations cycling down together as their engines slowed and cooled. It kept on, like an endless rain, filling her to the brim and still packing more in.  _How…?_

 _Oh. That's right._ She was far too tired to snort but would have if given the energy,  _he modded himself to have such a heavy stream and such thick transfluid._ She had seen transfluid before, and never had it felt as gelatinous as what was filling her belly.

He nuzzled her helm and licked the back of her neck as his spike started to depressurize within her, the stream slowing to a trickle. She felt more loose down there now and she sighed with relief but still didn't dare move.

With care he extricated himself from his no-longer-virgin Queen's raw port. He took in one more long vent, taking in her scent and the smell of interface on her beautiful frame - something he could grow accustomed to smelling every night. Likewise, all Eleaniris could smell was Megatron - his scent, his polish, his transfluid. She could feel his EM field still wrapping protectively around her, no longer obsessed with dominance as it had been during their interface. It was choking her then, but purring and nuzzling up to her now as it blanketed her with reassurance and happiness. Since he had established her as the Submissive there was no need to be so threatening, if there ever was a need.

She should have known that more of Megatron's dominance-obsessed side was lurking below. He had just proved it now, shown her what it meant to be completly servile and fully subjugated when he had pounded her out of her own processor.

Their coitus was all of those things, yet she still felt that it could be called lovemaking. Nothing about what he had done could be called selfish - he could have just taken her his own way and not given her any time to adjust, after all.

"You impressed me, my precious." He kissed her audio, "How wonderful that you are so pliant and supple. Never before have I finished so quickly." A servo squeezed her aft, not enough to dent but enough to prove his point. He caused her to twist and her mewl instantly turned to a hiss as it twinged her torn rim.

He quickly set her down, turning her to face him. Her legs were spread easily by gentle servos as their owner bent to inspect her valve. Eleaniris' initial reaction was to try to conceal herself, but the time for that had passed. What would be the point anyway? It sort of belonged to him now - he had been the first and would likely be the last to take her.

Like hell he was going to let anyone so much as  _glance_  at her the wrong way, let alone touch her valve.

"I'm sorry, my dear." After an apologetic lick to her port which would have sent shivers if not for her fatigue, he sat up and gently passed a servo over the top of her helm in a stroke. Though he felt sorry that he had torn her delicate little rim, the Decepticon Emperor couldn't suppress the pleasure he felt at seeing his mate such a mess - lubricant staining her thighs, his mark on her neck, his slime spread over her, his transfluid buried deep within her chamber, his scent all but erasing her own. "Do you want to see Knockout now?"

"I'll be okay," she laughed weakly, "I don't break that easily." It was nice to lie in a berth and relax, especially after her deflowering at the spike of such a sex beast.

"Yes," he wasn't smiling, "I know." Megatron knew all too well that she was not easily broken. He owed everything he knew now to that simple characteristic.

"Hey," she cooed. He slanted back to her, not aware that his gaze had even shifted. "It's okay now, right?"

"You know where you stand with me. I just gave you my virginity," she laughed, trying to cheer him up, "and was that  _interesting_."

"You do not have any regrets?" He cocked his helm, reminding Eleaniris of the shunned sparkling of Tarn. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't reject him again, not for anything less than a serious offense. Her spark wept every time she thought of how the baby Megatronus had been treated.

"No," she sat up carefully, despite the needles in her lower belly. "Not in the slightest." Impossibly thick transfluid sloshed within her chamber, heavy and feeling like a five-pound weight had been placed into her womb. She looked down at it and nearly gaped at the sight of the bulge on her abdomen - nearly equal to that of a three-month pregnant woman. It almost felt as though his seed was thickening, and she noticed that not even a drop had escaped her - either it was adhering to her insides, or her own womb had sealed it in. Likely both.

Megatron hummed contentedly, placing a still-enormous servo over that covered the entirety of her belly over the bump. It was a simple gesture, but appearances are often deceiving.

A sign of possession.

Though Eleaniris knew that he knew that he didn't own her, sometimes he acted like he did. Yet, it wasn't such a big deal that the merciless, possessive, controlling Decepticon tyrant was behaving like a Decepticon tyrant. That didn't scare her. He was predictable for the most part.

What scared her was that she didn't care so much anymore. Was she losing who she was? Had spending years under the Decepticon system and culture killed off her sense of self-reliance, dignity, and pride? After being told that she was an object, a piece of property, something to be owned was she starting to  _believe_  it? Had that been the source of her lust, her servile mannerisms, during their interface?

_What happened to Miss Independent?_

No, it wasn't that Megatron believed that he owned her. He couldn't could he? After all that he had seen, after all of the progress they had made, had he relapsed? Panic overtook her and she started quivering, raising her servos to her face in a sob.

Megatron  _owned_  her now. He had taken away the last thing she had left, crushed it easily with his powerful hips. All that she thought she had gained had been for  _nothing_.

Coolant bubbled up in her optics, vents hitching and stalling in her despair so that she started coughing. Eleaniris missed when Megatron's look of pride melted away to be replaced with worry and concern. His optics softened and he moved up closer to her, begging "What happened, Eleaniris? Are you alright?" To him her emotions had changed with no reason, unless she was unhappy about giving herself to him.

Disappointment, shame and sorrow filled him, his subconscious telling him to run away as he had done in his youth when a master got angry with him. He had managed to hurt her yet  _again_.

_So much for vowing to care for her._

"Please, Eleaniris." He picked her up gingerly to set her across his lap, supporting her legs and back bridal-style. "What upsets you so?"

"Y-you," she stuttered, hiccuping "y-you tricked m-me." Her chest fluttered rapidly, up and down, a leftover habit of her humanity.  _Which I also took away from her._

His helm recoiled backwards when she shrieked, "WHY?"

"I do not under-"

"I  _ **trusted**_  you!" She hit his chest, the action hurting his spark more than his plating. Energon started to flow from the torn rim again to trickle into his lap as the wound was tweaked. "WHY?"

"Please expl-"

"Y-you k-know wh-what you d-did." Her lips quivered, her white optics ablaze with distrust and hurt. She swallowed and took a deep vent, "H-how could you u-use me again? You tricked me into laying with you."

His optics narrowed at the false accusation, his spark flaring red over her plating as his grip grew tighter in his fury. His voice was a dangerous timbre when he ordered, "Open your chestplates.  _Now_."

"I will do no su-"

"You  **will**  do as I  **say** ," he snarled in a tone that he had never before used with his Queen. The solution to this mess was as clear as the finest high-grade to him - if the information Knockout had was correct, that was.

He bared his denta furiously and she cowered, opening her chestplates with a defeated sob. Megatron growled in warning as he leant over and pushed their sparks together, hugging her to his chest, eager to settle their dispute once and for all. He faced enough threat of usurpation from his mechs - he didn't need Eleaniris to help them. His mate was supposed to support him, not weaken him, and he needed their bond to remain strong. Perhaps he should have bonded with her beforehand, but he had not wanted to seal it through interface - it was too conventional for him, and he wanted to both surprise and show off for his chosen one.

This time the both of them knew what was coming, each granted with a single glass from which to drink. A year and a half's worth now, translating to a single sip for the both of them.

Eleaniris nearly gasped at the physical pain she felt in his memories aboard the  _Nemesis_. She thought as though an invisible had pierced his spark, sticking there for he was unable to pull it out. He only made it worse when he would think of returning to her, only to then shame himself into staying away.

Again, more scars of a rejected sparkling that perceived himself to be worthless and terrible in all of his endeavours.

He even had gotten to the point of snuffing out all hope of her pushing that button and assumed that she would rather die than call him back. He couldn't even watch Wheelie's footage of her, so great was his shame and remorse for what he had done to her. That was all that had mattered - not that  _Earth_  lay in ruins but that her  _home_  lay in ruins, not that the  _humans_  had been purged but that her  _race_  had been purged. He didn't give a damn about the rest of the world and all of the moral laws of both Cybertron and Earth, but he did care that she had suffered. That was all he saw - her sadness.

But that did not keep him from wanting to protect her. Arguably seeing his destruction of her world through her eyes had made him even more protective of Earth, for even though he would not set ped on Earth again he would protect it as though he owned it.

She almost dared to call it honorable of him.

Eleaniris felt pity well up within her chassis as he heard Grace and Talia's contented, happy conversations with their mates. All that had done to him was further hammer in his worthlessness, how much more he was monster than mech. How he didn't deserve a mate after what had befallen her.

His youth may have been millions upon millions of years ago, but the scars were still present. Time, she supposed, did not heal all wounds.

 _What is an Empire without an Empress?_ How desperate and sad he had sounded, though outwardly he had been his same cold, clinical self.

She felt herself starting to climb down from the high of her emotional breakdown, even smiling at his rush of happiness at being called home to her.  _He called Earth home,_ she realised.

Even so, he was hesitant to open the throne room doors. He didn't want to alienate her and so he prepared to restrain himself from excessive displays of affection. The mushiness in his spark was shrugged off as well - in his mind, he had a right to coddle her. Feeling such love from a loveless mech was a feeling so very unique and so very strong - it was as if they were magnets so fiercely attracted to one another that they could be placed any distance apart and still find each other.

Yet he feared losing her approval for his conquering, that she would force him to give up his title and this throne. She wasn't upset at his inability to choose which he loved more - Eleaniris did not expect the impossible of him. The fact that she was of equal importance as his Empire spoke volumes to her.

Which helped to explain his fury that she had possibly chosen Optimus over him, and his hurt that she had only called him back so that he could see it, that she could shove his face in his loss as he had done to her. She felt so bad that he had seen her in the palm of Circuitsia's killer.

His wretchedness came back with full force when he had almost walked away, the same type of loneliness she had felt in that moment filling him as well. They were so similar yet so very different, mirror images cast on the same mirror, touching yet apart.

He hated Optimus Prime with a passion, but less than he loved her. It was due to this imbalance and also his sense of guilt that he allowed the discussion to take place and even be agreed to. She couldn't recall a time she had been more touched.

Perhaps to her it had not been a large sacrifice, but to him it was. He desired nothing more than to behead the Prime and slaughter the Autobots - if not enslave them - yet her approval mattered more. It made her feel increasingly happy yet acutely aware of her responsibility.

Without her, the fates of millions were at stake. Megatron would still take as he desired, conquer and enslave, if it were not for her presence. If she ever changed her mind he would instantly take that which he believed was destined to be his - just as he had done with Earth, with his relentless rout of her planet and effortless, easy subjugation of her people. A shiver crawled up her strut, making her shudder.

She was all that was standing in his way, the only thing telling him no. This great, powerful leader had ruled his forces with an iron fist, had aimed to conquer the universe and make its races submit to his will and bow to his throne, had destroyed without mercy nigh remorse, but had skidded to a halt for her. He had stepped on anyone else standing in his way, crushed them under Decepticon heel, but refused to even  _touch_  her.

The whispering temptation of limitless power filled her mind only to be shushed and discarded. She wasn't about to start abusing her position now, as enticing as it might be. Even though the lion had spared the mouse, the mouse would not use her power nefariously despite the lack of consequences.

Tyrannical power was Megatron's to have, not hers.

Despite his awesome power over her, the year and a half between his return and their copulation had been filled with restraint on his part. He could have done whatever he wished to her, yet he had gritted his denta to keep himself from initiating interface, kissing her, licking her, or even touching her. It was hard and sometimes the only way he got control of himself he simply walked away.

Though he wanted a palace all to themselves, where he could easily retreat from the tiring politics of the Decepticon Empire or from campaigns among the stars, he had allowed Grace and Soundwave to hold apartments there, as well as Thundercracker and Skywarp and Talia (albeit on the end of the wing farthest from themselves). He wanted her to have company so that she did not feel like a small bird in a large, cold, lonely cage when he was gone.

He had decided that their sparklings would benefit from plenty of friends, that she shouldn't have to raise them alone, isolated from other femmes behind the high palace walls.

Maybe she had overreacted. There was nothing here to suggest what she had feared.

Megatron saw her confusion at finding out that he did, indeed, love her, and had no intentions of making her his berth slave. When one of the humans tried to assassinate his Queen for being an "aid of the enemy," he felt her spark shatter at the betrayal of the very race she had given everything to save - even going as far as to offer herself up to be his mate, making herself into a virgin sacrifice so that he may leave them alone.

His own hurt at having stripped her of her achievements and having to leave her behind spiralled through his own spark, the effect it was having on her his to see.

She stared at the button for a week whereas he had expected her to dispose of it as soon as she had surmised its purpose. She had given it more thought than he believed possible after everything he had done, but his spark seized when it saw the true reason she had called him back.

Eleaniris was scared. She feared for her planet, her people, and her own life since he was gone. After having been routed so thoroughly in three days, despite all of her home's defenses, she was afraid of another alien invasion this time facing no resistance. She had worried, for a brief instant, that she had doomed someone else to his faction's attentions.

She still debated with herself over his intentions and the consequences his return would have. She went back and forth, her mind worried and her spark eager for its mate. It was not her fears that broke her will, however, but her pity.

She recalled how he didn't have a home as a sparkling, how lonely he had felt. She remembered memories that he had forgotten, ones that had her sympathizing for his child self.  _He just wants to be wanted,_ her spark had told her. He  _did_  want to be desired, but he was not desperate so that just anyone could satisfy him.

Only his perfect, pretty little mate would meet his requirements.

And that little mate wanted to coddle him like a baby. Megatron was caught between snarling in offense and repugnance, but was leaning towards purring like a sunning cat.

If only Eleaniris was of Cybertron and had had the means to provide and care for him, he would have been sure to pay her back later on - after he had risen from the mines and through the gladiator arena of Kaon, after he had founded the Decepticons and overthrown the Senate, he would have sent someone to find the little femme that had rescued him and have her brought to him. In turn he would crown her his Queen, his one and only, to stand by his side and watch him win the war to free Cybertron. The tiny, defenceless, loveless sparkling she had taken under her wing would have grown to, inversely, take her under his.

Quite a similar tale to the human fable  _Androcles and the Lion_ , if Eleaniris' memory was correct.

Nevertheless she asked him back, pressing the button and surrendering to the little flicker of relief that coursed through her spark.

Then, he saw how much she appreciated little things about Optimus Prime. His Energon boiled when she saw her admiration for the color of his optics, the way he knelt instead of picking her up. They way she had invited the Autobots into their home, allowed them to take from the Energon, and stayed alone with that  _infuriating_  Prime made him want to snarl in rage.

Naturally, her frustration at them using Cybertronian behind her back made him smirk with agreement, only for him to hate the way that she spilled out her secrets with the Prime, who made her smile in a few minutes whereas it had taken him  _months_.

Even then, though, she felt bad for him seeing her sit so happily in Optimus' servo. That reassured him, calmed his wrath somewhat. Perhaps that was what she was meant to do as his Conjunx Endura - soothe his anger and soften his servo.

How similar they had felt by the end, though. At last, when everything untrue and insignificant fell away, he saw that Eleaniris and he felt the same way. All that mattered was that they were lonely and both needed a home, he would protect and she would serve as his Queen.

He smiled softly when she lovingly called him an oaf for his jealousy. How could one not show affection for such an adorable, tiny creature. His lovely treasure indeed, the perfect Queen and Carrier of his sparklings.

How much more cute would she become after rounding with his young in her chamber? When she was nursing them or playing with them, reading to them or teaching them? His spark swelled at the possibilities, possessiveness and affection growing exponentially for his mate.

However he felt with her her sadness over the loss of seventy percent of her people, almost convincing himself that she didn't want him again, that she wanted him to go away after what he had done. Yet, though she mourned, she never wanted him to leave. She only grappled with the effects of his actions and whether she could love him or not - thankfully his dates had helped cure her of some of that. Every flower and every small trip built it up so that on the wedding day she was just as happy as he was. Finally they didn't have to be alone, despite their great power.

Eleaniris' lust hadn't grown until he had started licking her, and her thought process had led up to her asking if she had ever explained her rationale behind his privilege of subjugation. His Queen believed that he had to in order to keep his command, but also knew that there were more Earths out there home to primitive peoples with no protection. Inversely there were also destined to be more evil empires built for conquering and killing. She wanted him to peacefully annex the former worlds and, as her mind had said, "Have his fun with the rest."

Nevertheless, once he had shut her up using his tongue and slickened her up her arousal possessed her, made her request to be taken from behind and made her kiss and lick his own glossa wantonly. He witnessed how it felt to be speared on his own spike and the extent to which he had satisfied her. She didn't even care that he was conquering her again, impregnating her and showing her who the Decepticon leader was.

All that she knew was the pull-push of his mechhood, sawing in and out of her port with ease but also a great amount of force. She desired the frag, and as much as he had lost control he recognized now that he wasn't his usual rough self.

She would find out later just how much he could make her scream, after they sealed their bond and her port was adapted to take his size.

Eleaniris relaxed in his arms, servos still on his chassis as he parted their sparks. His optics glowed softly and he leaned down to kiss her chastely. "Shall we seal our bond?"

"How?" Eleaniris cocked her helm, complacent in that he had not been planning a vicious backstab after all. Happy as a lark she leaned back against his arm and crossed one ped over the other, pressing her lips together in an embarrassed line as she felt through her aft his impressive breeding tool.

"I will think of something." Mischievousness flowed through their reignited temporary bond, making Eleaniris purse her lips with suspicion. Megatron being sneaky rarely involved anything good.

He set her down between his kneeling legs and next to the sizable puddle they had created as he went about restoring his own size. So busy was she with staring at the once-white-now-pink petal in the middle and contemplating what that meant for her that she did not notice him actually change size.

"Precious," his deep voice boomed behind her, prompting her to whirl around and come face-to-face with his…

Sizable _,_ ah,  _equipment._ She gulped, trying to avoid thinking about how much longer it was than she was tall, or the size of the head alone being larger than her helm. That would get her nowhere except excessively freaked out.

It was all she could do to shutter her optics and block data from her sensors, which continued to feed her the smell of such a large  _thing,_ all the oil and lubricant and transfluid scents creating a husky combination. His amusement poured down over her as she felt it in their bond and heard it in his chuckle. The sound of something clicking and finally snapping shut reminded her to shut her own panel and chestplates, finally standing and noting how deliciously sticky her entire body felt from his attentions, particularly between her thighs.

He purred and snatched her up, claws tightening securely over her as the rapid increase in height disturbed the transfluid in her belly and made it drop harshly against her cervix.  _Perhaps that, too, is keeping it from leaking?_

A year and a half ago she would have thought that her body had betrayed her; now she couldn't care less.

* * *

Knockout ventilated slowly, double checking that all of his specialised tools for smaller were available. All Megatron had said was that he would need to examine the Queen, providing no details whatsoever.

In his experience, femmes that made the trip from his Master's berth straight to his medbay were not in the best of condition. Hence he had prepared for the worst, carefully preparing for emergency surgery should he need it. And, discerning that this femme was different from the rest, that Megatron would go to unknown lengths to avenge her, made him all the more cautious.

But the Queen wasn't screaming, crying, or in stasis when Megatron brought her in. In actuality, it sounded as if they were having a chat. The medic cycled a slow vent in relief.

"Let's see you," he purred, trying to force himself into his routine persona. He needed to calm himself, or mistakes could be made and then paint jobs ruined.

Eleaniris lay herself down on the tiny medical berth from his Lord's cupped servo, spreading her legs obediently and opening her panel. Knockout checked Megatron for affirmation and his leader nodded, allowing him to continue with his check-up. Carefully he moved to sit beside the splayed Queen on the counter while setting his cuff appropriately.

He braced himself for what he might find, still distrustful, but hummed when he walked up to inspect her valve. All too aware of the Supreme Commander's watchful optics Knockout wiped her down with a mesh cloth, removing the lubricants from her port, and checked again.

He could see a few minor tears that he would have to repair out of caution in the face of his Master's wrath, but so far she seemed all right - other than how she seemed to be very… stretched out.

"Any sharp pains?" He asked, shining a light into her valve to see if any calipers had been damaged or mesh torn. All he could see were places she had been stretched and where her self-repair was already fixing minor scrapes.

"Only from my rim, I think."

Knockout nodded, "Sit up slowly and tell me how it feels."

She obeyed, carefully moving herself upwards until she was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her. "A little sore, that's all. Again pain from my rim, but not much else."

A quick scan confirmed what he had seen, but also told him that her chamber had taken a battering and had locked his Lord's transfluid inside of her. Unsurprising for Conjunx Endurae.

"Do you wish for repairs now?" He turned to Megatron, unsure of his leader's intentions for this visit. Was it to merely observe her or did he wish for repairs in this instant as well?

"I don't think that they are necessary." Eleaniris said, brushing her servos up and down her thighs once. "Are the rips threatening?"

Megatron indicated that he was to answer her first, which he did so promptly. "They appear merely superficial."  _And if I repair them you might just rip again anyway._ "They can be healed on their own by your self-repair systems."

"Do you wish to be repaired, precious?" His Master's voice sounded all the more deeper when he was this small.

"I think I'm okay." She inspected herself for a moment, silently gaping at how much wider she was after having taken him. Clearly Megatron had achieved his goal of 'ruining her for any other mech.' "Yes. I'll be fine."

"If you are sure." Megatron raised an optic ridge at her, servos folded behind his back and watching her warily.

"Yes."  _If I get fixed I'll just keep tearing. It's better if they heal and adapt on their own._

"Then the doctor will explain how forging works." The gaze went from Eleaniris to him, from lenient and soft to expectant and hard. Out of all the things Knockout had been expecting, he had never thought that explaining to an ignorant Empress how sparklings were made would be one of them.

He readjusted himself, pulling away from her to give her space and straightening. Knockout didn't even want to be  _close_  to her, so keen was he to avoid irritating Megatron. Little did he know that the processor of the Decepticon tyrant was far too focused on the looks of his little mate to even think about the medic's positioning.

"Eleaniris," he carefully minded his tone as the Queen's relaxed optics turned to him, listening. The shorter he made this, the better. "Both presence transfluid and a spark merge are required for a Carrier, the one who develops the sparklings, to conceive, but it is vastly different from human conception."

No emotions in those faceplates, nothing to help at all. "Whereas a fertilised egg is the start of a human fetus, Cybertronians do not have such mechanisms present to develop young. Instead energy and coding is exchanged when sparks merge, your own fragments and Megatron's as well intermixing."

"Codes are not always broken in the same place, meaning that a piece must match up exactly with another for a Cybertronian to conceive. This introduces difficulty for those trying to conceive," he looked between her and Megatron, "but it should be no obstacle in your case."

"Why is that?"

"As sparkmates, you are compatible and your sparks will, because of this likeness, communicate." He dipped his helm, "As Conjunx Endurae, you are even more compatible and there is even greater synchronisation of code splicing."

"Which-" he reset his vocaliser, "Allows you to conceive multiple, while many couples would have trouble getting even one." Eleaniris' optic ridges raised while Megatron's purr poured over the two of them.

"And what about the transfluid?"

"It provides the building blocks, if you will, for your eventual bitlet's growth. An array of particles, some Energon, some metals, and fragments of CNA to help restrict growth if necessary provided by your own chamber."

"CNA?" She cocked her helm and Knockout obliged her. The Queen wasn't helping him make this short.

"Cybernucleic Acid." He paused, "Its similarity to human DNA did make it easier for you to be cyberformed, my lady."

"The CNA secreted into your chamber via tiny pocket valves in your chamber walls will keep the sparkling from growing too large for your womb."

"An assortment of various metals in the transfluid allows the sparkling's core, whose energy comes from a sparkmerge, to assemble a protoform according to the coding within its spark. The rarity of edible materials on Cybertron to supplement transfluid contributed to the rarity of carrying a sparkling, Eleaniris."

"Many were, as we say, 'constructed cold' with mined spark energy due to the shortage." Knockout quickly reassured, "However, that is no longer a problem due to availability of these materials."

Was Megatron one of those? Eleaniris pictured this process to be akin to the making of clones in  _Star Wars,_ causing her sympathy for him to increase tenfold. He didn't only not know who his parents - Creators - were, but he didn't  _have_  any.  _The poor baby._

"Where do these materials come from? What sources are there?" She had a sinking suspicion, but she wanted to ask to know if she was wrong.

"There are a few edible minerals, but one of the most popular sources among the elite Cybertronian society, the wealthy among the wealthy, were Scraper Beetles bred for this very purpose." Knockout couldn't suppress a shiver of disgust - he knew he would have to ingest them later if he wanted sparklings with Sophia, but the thought of eating something that crawled in the dark and fed off of waste material…  _Vile._ He hadn't even touched them for his dissection hobby.

She wasn't even surprised.  _Honestly, I should just know by now that he does these things._

"And how long does this whole process take? Several years?" She knew gestation for elephants took two years - would she be carrying children around for a decade?

"Half a human year, with your size." Knockout added, "I have theorised in my research that humans-turned femmes, because of past human biology, will also be able to develop them faster." Her helm recoiled with surprised and she sat up, drawing up her legs to cross them in front of her. She had assumed that sophistication of Cybertronians would increase their development time, but perhaps it lowered it? Maybe.

"Will I hinder their post-birth growth?"

"Not necessarily." Knockout dipped his helm, "Dominance of one mate is not merely a social construct, my Queen. Cybertronians are coded to take more coding or produce less coding fragments based on their position within their coupling." She pursed her lips and cocked an optic ridge at Megatron, who smirked in return and lowered a talon to tap her pelvis.

"Mine." Knockout slowly distanced himself, leaving room for the Emperor and the much smaller Empress. He had understated how large his Master would seem when he was this small.

Or when said Lord was busy crooning impossibly loudly to his much smaller mate. He continued to back away, thinking he might make it out of his Commander's reach when a massive servo slammed behind him and cut off his escape.

He straightened like a rod under Megatron's hard optics, "Her examination is complete. If she has no more questions, she can leave."  _Then Sophia can give me that polishing she owes me._ He had underestimated how much he would like caring for his mate and vice-versa - she was adorable.

She stood slowly, hissing under her breath at the dull pain, and stepped into Megatron's waiting servo. The tyrant held her close to his cheek, purring at her touches along his cheek rim, and as he turned away Eleaniris managed to thank him for his time.

Such a contrast to her own mate. He hoped that she lasted.

* * *

"Why are we out here?" Once upon a time she might have been opposed and even frightened to address the enormous Cybertronian jet/mech in such a brash tone, but being a Conjunx Endura had its advantages.

Including what Megatron might have perceived to be an alarming lack of fear.

Did he want Eleaniris to fear him or not? Perhaps he desired respect in lieu of trepidation, and that sassy tone wasn't cutting it. Old habits died hard and the tyrant had grown accustomed to seeing a healthy dose of unease among his troops in his presence over the millions of years of war. Quite frankly he was wondering if he even liked having Eleaniris be comfortable with him.

Was he afraid to let her in?

No, that couldn't be it. He had spent so long trying to get her to come out of her shell, so many processor seizes, spark aches, and so much lost recharge that he didn't wish her to crawl back inside her hole.

He didn't want her to have dominance over him. Every time Starscream had challenged him in the past, sometimes all it would take was a simple hard, processor-crashing frag to put the rebellious Seeker back where he belonged - underneath him. Since the beginning he knew that his mate was an alpha femme and that was one of the reasons it had been arduous to tame her; even now he had not succeeded completely.

However, he would not let her challenge his mechhood by allowing her to order him around.  _Megatron_  only did what  _Megatron_  wanted to do. He was happy to give her what she desired, but surrendering his masculinity was off-limits.

 _He_  would always be on top of  _her_ , not the other way around.

"We must seal our bond." was his clipped reply as he dipped his wings in the golden light of winter dusk. An idea was forming in his processor, one that might reassert his dominance.  _She even ignores the meaning behind the frag I just gave her,_ he thought with an annoyed grunt.

"I thought interface was supposed to do that."

She was pricking at his last nerve.

"Interface  _after_  sparkmerge will, among other things."

"Then what are we doing up here?"

 _I thought you would never ask._ " _This_ , fleshling," he purred mischievously, tasting her new nickname.

He transformed in mid-flight, allowing his Queen to drop through the wispy, fluffy, scattered clouds below.

It took her only a second to comprehend that she was falling from the sky, white vanishing around her as the far-away golden waves of the ocean filled her downwards facing vision. Under the crushing pressure of her internal terror a small voice whispered that he would catch her.

Farther and faster she went, the small voice growing progressively smaller. Bewildered she braced herself for impact, all-too-aware that water was as hard as cement when dropped from such a high height.  _Why doesn't he want me?_

_Why is he trying to kill me?_

Her spark lurched, encircling her panicking processor in relaxation. Her limbs went limp and she lost all sensation, her optics offlining in peace. It was as if she was sinking in slow motion, falling into a soft, squishy cloud.

Then she fell into a hard, unyielding silver servo, her mind jolting awake and her optics flashing online in a start just in time to see the water a dozen feet below her before Megatron swerved upwards and re-ascended with a flash that sprayed white mist from the blue below.

Emotion slammed into her like a semi on the highway. Her processor lurched in the flood, her mind drowning, and Megatron faltered for a moment, his altitude dropping and falling to the side before he corrected himself.

She gasped, clutching her seat, "W-w-what-"

"There." Megatron tried to conceal his relief at catching her, but such a strong emotion could not be hidden from her. Eleaniris felt its intensity and her vents stuttered at the multiple shocks coming at once. "It's sealed."

"I-I don't get it." Eleaniris held a servo over her chassis and leaned back, relaxing after falling several thousands of feet.

"I feel it." He purred, "I feel your anxiety winding down and your content rising to take its place. Do you not sense me?" All thoughts of dominance fled him, retreating below the surface again. They were embedded too deep to defeat, but he could lessen their appearance if he tried.

"I do." She sighed, letting her servo fall to join its twin in her lap. "Are we-"

"Bondmates?" His chuckle shook her plating with its deep tonality, "Yes. You, my dear," his feelers made their appearance again, slithering towards her like airborne snakes, "are now connected to me for eternity."

"All of your sorrows my sorrows," they intertwined over her ankles, caressing as they ascended, "all of your triumphs mine as well."

"All of your fears mine to soothe," he composed the poem as if he wasn't fondling her, the feelers growing like vines to reach her knees as more came over her shoulder, "all of your wishes mine to grant."

"We may part but never be parted," the tentacles reached her breasts and port at the same moment, "touch and remain touching." The tendrils over her chassis, before just barely brushing her bare protoform, quickly coiled and clenched around her carrying tanks while the others pressed against her panel firmly.

A choking sound left her, her helm throwing itself back as she was fondled by the beast currently holding her within him, feeling her comparably helpless frame at his own discretion. Her throat was quickly engulfed, feelers wrapping upwards and teasing her open lips. The air vibrated with the purrs of the pleased mech clutching at her possessively as each slim wisp of a tentacle fondled her with a strength that betrayed their perceived weakness and carried data of a fertile, young, pliant femme back to the processor of their Master.

Unable to take the tease of her voluptuous frame any longer he hurriedly banked and transformed, forcing his feelers to let her go and spit her out into his servo in an awestruck heap. Eleaniris whined, throwing her sexual frustration back at him over the bond.

So much for the interface that had (temporarily) reduced their sexual tension earlier.

Confident that his mechhood had been reasserted, he set her down into the damp, long grass as he snapped on his cuff and changed his size.

To Eleaniris Megatron had looked just as nefarious as Barricade in that moment - making her subconscious all the more glad that she would never give that mech a mate - and forcing her to wonder with a mix of annoyance and exasperation  _what is this joke was that he has with himself?_

"Nothing, my dear." He chuckled, red optics flashing as a  _click!_ Came from his wrist. She sighed, remembering,  _detailed communication between the Sparks._

Curious, she tried to send her own feelings over the bond but all she got was a intrigued ridge raise. Perhaps they would polish this then, if it was as she believed - emotions so refined they replaced words.

Her thoughts were viciously aborted when he leaned down to nuzzle and kiss her, her response a flurry of thinly-veiled begs behind lusting kisses. His rumble shook her lips, making her pull back, and he responded deviously with a heavy touch of possessiveness:

"I will have all of eternity to enjoy you, precious. Do not force me to tire of you so soon."

She gaped, offense in her optics, and she might have slapped him upside the helm if he hadn't chosen that moment to fill her mouth with his glossa. She didn't dare tangle for dominance with him, the shrunken albeit huge mech over her deciding to lay himself over her to lounge languidly and taste her at the same time. She groaned under his hefty weight, Megatron swallowing every single noise in his firm but loving kiss. This felt good.

This felt  _right_.

It was long and slow, her mind and spark at peace with one another as Eleaniris loved the man that had emerged from the beast, the old endings that had given them new beginnings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I hope it was worth it. 
> 
> A good story needs good cover art! Please shoot me a PM if you draw and would like to make a cover in exchange for a one-shot!
> 
> Stay tuned for the Epilogue!


	73. Epilogue: The Eyes See as One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue for disclaimer. This is it, guys! Sexual innuendos throughout. I do not own James Cameron's Avatar or My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

The air inside the  _Enterprise_  was bland, tasteless, smelling only of the metal that encapsulated them. Their private shuttle was nice, Megatron sparing no luxury for her and making her presidential jet seem like flying coach. For himself he found frivolity as unnecessary, inappropriate even, for a military commander. His office in High Command spoke of this, with its cold metal surfaces and virtually nonexistent lighting.

Yet, even his office smelled better than this. She longed for the subtle earthen smell, so small that one did not notice its presence until it was gone. Eleaniris wished to be home, especially wanted to see her kids. Even Pandora, out among the Na'vi tribes, had lacked the special thing that Earth had.

It was not the first time out in deep space, but it was her first diplomatic mission - not that it was advertised as such among the Decepticons. Mutiny was not something she wished to instigate against her mate.

Her pact with Megatron allowed her to do such things as this. Pandora, as a primitive and undeveloped world and far from an "evil empire," was within her jurisdiction. Though Megatron would probably never admit to it, he knew that the nature of the Decepticon faction had changed. She was using evil to fight evil, evil to guard good. On the outside the Decepticons were brutes, merciless warriors who followed the lead of the most tyrannical of them all. The destroyed without remorse, conquered without doubt in their cause to prove their superiority. To make others bow.

They protected the innocent, the kind, the young, only destroying the evil and unyielding.

With the aid of a holoform she learned the ways of the Na'vi of Pandora, admiring the ways in which they lived their lives in peace. Although humanoid in appearance, they connected with each other in the way humans never did. Neytiri, her dear tutor, friend, and the daughter of the chieftain guided her through the path of the hunter.

She left the planet as Omaticaya, a member of the clan that she had helped to save. Megatron would keep the planet safe in exchange for some of their valuable resources - namely, ununtrium and unobtanium ore deposits beneath their soil.

Provided that he would stay away from their religious grounds.

" _If you touch the Tree of Souls, or any of its groves," she had told him, "Primus have mercy on you."_

He obeyed, thoroughly wrapped around her finger. He had wanted both the interface and the possibility of building more Phase Sixers using the ununtrium. Besides, he knew how much she enjoyed the hunt among what was now "her" tribe - never again would he harm a planet that she loved.

She would have to sparkmerge later with him so that he could share in her experience, but that could wait another day. Megatron never acted like it, but she could tell he needed recharge.

As soon as their shuttle docked within the palace grounds, folding its wings vertically - remarkably similar to the Lambda-class shuttle from  _Star Wars_ \- he disembarked with the few high officers that came with them, namely Thundercracker and Soundwave, right on his tail. The scent of the cool night air and the damp lawns met her olfactory sensors blissfully, drawing a sigh from her vocaliser as she shuttered her optics in contentment and drowsiness. It was late, and she would have to wait to reunite with her babies.

From the landing pad he proceeded to his palace up the walk, startling some of her foxes. Behind them the ship launched upwards and away, undoubtedly back to the expansive hangars of command. Megatron nuzzled his Queen contentedly and cradled her against his cheek the whole way up to their rooms, purring suggestively and pulling her from the edge of recharge.

Evidently he wanted to skip recharge for a little while.

* * *

Content in her recharge, the Queen attempted to roll only to meet the dead weight that was her controlling tyrant of a mate, lounging contentedly atop her as he slumbered. Her optic shutters fluttered with exasperation, her frame now fully online, and wriggled her hips to find that he was settled quite firmly on top of her and that, as usual, she was slightly sore. He had better get up and clean up before the kids stumbled in and saw their Creators like this. The shredded, sticky, stained sheets from her night at his mercy would be difficult to explain.

"Hey," she murmured into the audio right next to her mouth, knowing that he was a very light sleeper. A gladiator and warmonger would have to be. "Can you get your royal aft off of me?"

"No." came the hard reply. Megatron had glimpsed her beneath him, his lovely Queen devoid of all armor and relaxed, beautiful wings spread out behind her to frame her delicate face. How such a pretty little thing could believe what the world had said about her lack of beauty was beyond his understanding, but that left her all to  _him_.

Flirtatious emotions came over the bond, telling her all that she needed to know.  _Fine._

"Look," she growled, squirming as much as she was able under his massive albeit shrunken weight, "unless you want to jeopardize your bitlets, get off of me."

The Slagmaker of Kaon moved off of her with all of the speed of a hardened warrior, red optics surprised, happy, and most of all lusting as he grasped what she had insinuated. "More," he purred, the statement not even the slightest bit uttered like a question. His optics roved over her belly in their inspection, a servo moving to cup the slight bulge that had emerged because of the night prior. "You already know?" His thumb swept back and forth contentedly. Happiness flowed over their connection, making her feel a little bad for deceiving him.

Good thing they had learned how to numb and control their bond. Even if things were hidden from each other, it wasn't as if they could conceal memories from each other within a spark merge. "Probably." His face fell, optics swiftly becoming hard.

"With how much you so graciously  _donated_  last night. But we didn't spark merge, remember?" He nodded. As much as he liked seeing her pregnant, he was even more loathe to strain her systems with constant childbearing. He was careful to avoid "knocking her up," as Talia would say, too often. Regardless, she did find herself "with spark" once again every so often. Sometimes they would get carried away and sparkmerge while she had transfluid within her belly - or vice versa. She would have to wait for her frame to absorb his fluid before she could share spark energy again; it wouldn't be long, since she was constantly making simplified Energon for little bitlets and one large, overgrown sparkling.

It was far from a terrible thing to know that you were carrying a precious bunch of new lives within your own belly. It was a sensation that that had yet to grow old, even after her three pregnancies. Same as the sensation of nursing.

She heard the chirps of their younger mechlings from the hall connected to her rooms, forcing her to sit up and consider the absolutely  _disgusting_  mess they were both sitting in. Megatron, sensing her wishes, moved off of the jelly-like mattress of his Queen as she set about removing the coverings. His argument that such a job was for servants had always proved futile. " _I couldn't possibly pay them enough to deal with the aftermath of your fragging,"_ as she had said.

"This is trash anyway." She tsked, shaking her helm as she studied a clean patch on the shredded blue sheets, "So much for my Usconian silk."

His amusement drew her accusatory, angry gaze to him.  _What are you laughing at?_ her spark said to his.

"My gorgeous, flustered, obviously carrying Queen." He grinned, showcasing all of the sharp denta that she had once feared. "So  _cute_. My Empress can have as many Usconian sheets as her little spark desires."

Eleaniris shoved his servo away when it went to touch her cheek. "Don't give me that. You have work to do today, remember?" Though her voice gave no hints, he managed to see the flicker of a smile in the corners of her lips. She was trying to stay firm with him but had he not demonstrated that he would always win? It frustrated yet also amused him to no end.

"No," she rebuked him, piling together the sheets and gathering them into her arms, " _I_  win  _sometimes_." So accustomed was she to the feeling of fabric sticking to her protoform that she didn't even flinch in the slightest.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." She stuck out her glossa at him and he smirked with affection at the pleasure-giving tip. "Now clean up and go to work." That delicate little helm cocked itself at him, countenance becoming reflective as her wings delicately tucked themselves away, folding in smaller and smaller until they were completly subspaced.

"Reassert yourself." Fluttery, light lips made contact with his own, earning a pleased sigh in his spark. "I will be here later. Leave and pluck the fruit of the universe."

He growled at her praise, seizing her and standing effortlessly. Evidently he wanted to take her with him to clean up.

Eleaniris dropped her bundle of ruined silk sheets, more sacrifices to Megatron's insatiable lust, and let them fall forgotten to the surface of the berth. They had a bath to take - preferably before their kids discovered they were up yet.

* * *

She hovered before him, her once-obsolete thrusters keeping her up with the aid of little, tiny beats of her silver wings. The sky outside the windows of his washracks had changed from dawn grey to the light blue of morning over the visible part of Eleanicon. To his chagrin he would be due at Command soon, especially after the successes of his most recent interstellar campaign. "It's nice to be home, isn't it?"

"Yes," he responded, solvent sloshing when he shifted and laid back, resting his arms on the sides of the bath. "Now my Empress can take care of her own young, hmmm?" He was trying to arch more into her touch without seeming too obvious, and Eleaniris made no mention that she knew what he was doing.

Her mate was  _such_  an attention pig, and she had thought that  _Knockout_  was bad.

"There," Eleaniris finished with scrubbing down his expansive chassis, inspecting her work for a few moments before nodding once, firmly, and dropping down to the water. The cloth was wet in the warm solvent again and her wire brush rinsed before she came up to his right arm, clearly with the intent of cleaning. As cute as it was to watch her try to wash him when he was his normal size, she couldn't possibly do it all. There was a whole day ahead of her - she couldn't wear herself out now.

She had his sparklings to raise, after all.

" _We could just get a nanny." She argued, standing on the edge of his desk in Command. Eleaniris had just released his first set of triplets into the world, all mechlings to his joy. She argued that she should be able to go with him on his campaign, since she had never truly experienced space for herself without the aid of a spark merge._

_Also, she had sensed at this point that he wanted plenty of sparklings. She was afraid that she would lose her chance to experience what lay beyond Earth's (now heavily guarded) atmosphere._

_Yet, her suggestion had insulted him. "If I wanted a nanny to raise my offspring," he spoke slowly with deep enunciation, "I would have bonded to a nanny." Clearly she hadn't been expecting his argument to take this route, if one could judge by her look._

" _I_ _ **intend**_   _for_ _ **you**_   _to be their Carrier and their mother,_ _ **not**_   _another femme." She had had no reply for him, but she had still been angry. That might have been the first time he had seen her twitch her wings like that._

" _However," he raised an optic ridge, "the occasional sitter is another matter." He hadn't realised how much he had been wanting to see her smile until she actually did._

"You're done." He plucked her up and made her lie down on his thigh, "It's my turn now." Her wings gave that annoyed twitch and her mouth pursed in exasperation but she did not fight him.

He took his own cloth from the side of the enormous tub, the movement sending out waves across the pool of warm liquid. With a brusque, quick motion he drenched it and carefully squeezed a few drops out from her favorite cleanser. Tenderly he rubbed her down with small circles of enormous digits, massaging gently in the key places with careful, pointed claws.

Whereas she might have once, a decade ago, tried to force his servo away and begged for him to stop she relaxed completly under his touch and allowed him to rub her clean of last night's residue. Obedient and happy, but tired from their copulation.

He wanted nothing more than to comm. Soundwave, inform his trusted officer of his intended absence, and stay with Eleaniris and his little Creations today - perhaps having some more  _adult_  playtime with his Empress later on.

Alas, she was correct. He did have work to do, especially after their trip. Their duties never stopped. Instead he enjoyed the moment, its short life making it all the more precious.

As he finished, teasingly pouring a servoful of liquid over her in a downpour and making her sputter, wings flapping and splaying as she coughed. To give her a half-sparked apology he petted them, sliding a gentle claw over each and feeling the individual feathers that made up her wings.

"Better?"

She wiped cleaning solvent away from her optics and nodded. "But…"

He waited expectantly, eyeing how she threw a leg over his thumb and opened her panels.

"You missed a spot."

Megatron rolled his optics, taking the cloth and rubbing with exaggerated roughness over her port. So nice and stretched, well adapted now to properly take his spike. He waited until he was sure that all of the lubricants were gone to ask her, "What about  _me_ , precious?"

"I believe that you have also missed a spot."

She closed her panels and sat up in his palm, crossing her legs in front of her. Eleaniris knew all too well what lay in the liquid beneath the servo cupping her and what he wanted her to do to said thing. He grinned, attempting to trip her into lavishing some attention on him.

"You know what's going to happen if I do that." Again, his little femme appeared to be correct.

* * *

They finished towelling off not a moment too soon.

Their sparklings, because they were so small, mostly slept in a nursery connected to her apartments. There she could easily care for them and they were close to their Carrier. Outside the doors to Megatron's rooms, the whole of their floor had been converted to individual hab suites for the older Creations. However, their "Aunts" had been kind enough to care for them during the past month, with the assistance of Wilson and Simmons. A huge undertaking, no doubt, for  _anyone's_  kids, let alone the offspring of her husband. Eleaniris would be sure to repay the favor.

The inquisitive chirps of their sparklings and voices of their older mechs were the only things that gave them warning before they entered. She couldn't keep the smile that emerged at the seeing her children, even if they were forbidden from their Creators' rooms.

Ramses, Cyrus, and Caesar emerged lastly, each dutifully guiding one of their sparkling brothers in their steps while watching the three middle Creations as they zipped towards their Creators. Megatron lowered to one knee carefully, offering a servo to the younglings that got there first.

The sparklings sensed the energy signatures of their Carrier and their Sire, clicking faster and with more assurance. Their arms reached out to her and their steps increased in pace, optics alight. She cooed gently, unsubspacing her wings to hug them when they got to her.

"Hello," she crooned, smiling at each of them and touching their helms, "what have you been up to?" They squealed and hugged her back with their little arms, clicking and chirping contentedly. Zephyr nudged one of her tanks, openly trying to suckle as he was accustomed to.

"No more," she hushed, gently pushing him away, "you were weaned, silly." If they kept going, she would never stop producing refined, sparkling Energon - she was likely to be carrying again soon, and there was no way she could nurse six hungry intakes.

Greetings were finished quickly as Eleaniris rushed Megatron along, practically having to keep their younglings away from their Sire. He was going to be late, and even if he was the Emperor he needed to be prompt and show his control.

"Come come," Eleaniris called, her eldest triplets helping her, "Sire has to go to work."

He smiled and rose, optics soft as he observed his chattering offspring and flustered mate. Those wings gleamed silver in the sunlight, reminding him of symbol that she had once used against him. "This is very true," he smirked, putting a claw to the underside of her chin, "my little  _Mockingjay_."

The claw traced her wings as she stared at him in awe, said goodbye to his younglings, and then he was gone.

"Ramses, Cyrus, Caesar," Two pairs of white and one pair of red optics looked at her expectantly. Discipline was a large part of Megatron's family structure, and even though they were only about a decade old they had their studies. "Go to your lessons, and do take your siblings with you. You're going to be late if you don't get a move on, my Creations."

Her eldest were preparing to crest her own height, but she knew that they would not dare to fight her over anything. They, especially their Sire, had made it clear that her size did not mean her rules were optional. Megatron and Eleaniris, as Knockout had said, would be very different but have similar parenting styles because of their Conjunx Endurae status.

They dipped their helms in polite acknowledgement and took their immediate siblings with them from the room, hurrying to meet the shuttle that would take them to Eleanicon and to their tutors.

Eleaniris had once thought that, because of the superiority and complexity of Cybertronians, that they would have slower developmental stages - she thought that she would be nursing for centuries. However, she had incorrectly associated age and longevity with superiority.

In fact, the time it took for them to develop was about the same as a human child. Knockout hypothesized that it might have something to do with her past humanity, but the process had already been fast anyway. It was the adulthood that was lengthened, not all of the phases of their entire lifetime as she had assumed.

Perks, she supposed.

"Come, babies," she cooed to the three that were left, "we can get you something to do." As much as she hounded him about getting to his work, she had her own reports to review.

* * *

Officially, the decisions for which mech would be awarded which femme crossed Megatron's desk and had to meet his approval. Unofficially, the work was hers. Megatron was far too busy to concern himself with such comparatively trivial matters.

There was some structure that the requests had to go through to make it to her own office in the Department of Bonds (Talia called it the "Love Department" and "Matchmaker Department" when no visitors were around) within the palace's old section for Decepticon Command. An unofficial location, for there was a level inside the main tower of Command for the Department, but they were Decepticons after all.

Such work was incredibly important and the process had to be kept secret. To the public and Decepticon forces she was Megatron's arm candy, virtually without power except for "worthless" tasks, meant to sit between his pedes or nestle in his lap. She was still the defeated but contented President, "forced" to carry and nurse her destroyer and conqueror's young within her cyberformed womb. She was meant to show her happiness for her position, her gratefulness for Megatron's gracious overthrow of her government and her thanks for her place in his berth.

In short, she was nothing important. Megatron would, with diplomatic missions on worlds like Pandora, say that he was "letting her off her leash" or "rewarding her for being a good little femme." The officers of Command, with the exception of Thundercracker and Soundwave, would laugh as she pretended to look clueless - Megatron had had her programmed to be ignorant to Cybertronian as a language, after all. All she knew was English.

Knowledge of what she was actually doing would jeopardize him.

The structure was simple, after Talia had suggested that it be like the television series  _The Bachelorette._ Mechs of a certain rank or higher could submit their request and twenty designations at a time would be pulled randomly every month. They would then complete a full application and after a review by the Decepticon Secret Service to be sure of the correctness of the request it would come to her office.

Already on record were requests from human women who wished to come back into Decepticon society, this time as an equal, as received by the Embassy in Dublin. If they were cleared, Eleaniris would interview them herself - using her holoform at first, and then showing her true form if she thought they were comfortable enough. If everything went correctly, the femme was introduced to the mech that fit her the closest. If no mechs were suitable, no mates were "awarded" that month.

Which was most months.

Marissa, who worked in the Bonds Department with Grace, Talia, and Kimora, was the first to have completed the process and be matched to Thundercracker. Eleaniris still remembered the interview with detail.

_It was uneventful until the very end. She had shown her true, metallic form without any shocks from Marissa and she had already answered all of the questions wonderfully. When she asked if Marissa had any questions for her, the woman had indeed had a few._

_Marissa had been in one of the worst place possible at the start of the Invasion - New York - when she was protesting on Wall Street. In all honesty, she should have expected the question that the woman posed._

" _All due respect ma'am," Marissa leaned forward, "but why is it that you did what you did? I always thought that people of your party-" The woman was genuinely incredulous._

_She had held up a servo, having heard all she needed to hear. "I understand. Sometimes we expect that our enemies, especially our political ones, would do the opposite of what we believe members of our own standing will."_

" _But, Marissa, as you have said," she had leaned back and cracked a knowing, gentle smile, "there are greater evils in the world that we must fight." She laid a servo over one of Marissa's hands, making full eye contact with the human woman._

" _There is a reason that the 'R' or the 'D' comes after a name, Marissa. It was my responsibility, as acting President, to do what I have done, and I have little doubt that any good person of the opposite party, if placed in my position, would not have done the same."_

_Marissa had accepted her answer with a nod, but also pushed further, "But you were the champion of the feminist movement! Our first woman president!" She swallowed and continued, "If I may, you could you have fallen to… to… this? Complacency with subservience to a dominant male?"_

_All she could do was stare blankly at Marissa, the tiniest flicker of doubt crossing her spark. What had she done? Why had she allowed herself to be lorded over?_

_Because she wasn't. Behind closed doors Megatron and herself were equals, if the power wasn't skewed in her favour. He didn't order her around unnecessarily and, in fact, he had a hard time telling her 'no.' After all those times he had turned her down, almost permanently damaging her from the emotional and psychological trauma, he couldn't bring himself to._

_But Marissa didn't know that story. In both human and Decepticon false histories, she was the epitome of a sacrifice, a "Slave Queen." This was what Marissa knew, but Eleaniris couldn't tell her. It was a secret that few could know, and she wasn't sure about the match that Marissa and Thundercracker would make._

" _Not only was I forced to sacrifice myself," she chose to say, "but my past achievements as well."_

_A pause in which she lightened the dark mood, "But you will like the mech that we have chosen for you."_

Marissa was still warming up to Thundercracker, but the blue jet had all the patience in the world. Sometimes Eleaniris would catch herself smiling at the stories Marissa would recount of Thundercracker's latest, over-the-top creative gift. It ground Megatron's gears when he would see those memories, and usually she would wake up to a surprise of her own as he tried to keep up with making her feel treasured.

Silly mech - always so unnecessarily competitive. She was  _bonded permanently_  to him!

Eleaniris closed the file she was reading, one that had passed the inspection of Talia with a few added notes. ' _I know what you are thinking,'_ she had written on the annotated copy of the file, ' _but your hubby has indicated preference for this mech. Talk to him.'_

She wasn't going to deal with Megatron's personal request for a  _Phase Sixer_ to get a mate, not right now.

The tanks of her sparklings were small and still growing out of their nursing stage, when they could refuel often from their Carrier. It was time for their early afternoon rations and the femmes' "lunch break."

* * *

The Empress missed what Grace was saying while she tried to block out Megatron's anger from her spark and mind.  _Furious with a subordinate again._

"I'm sorry," Eleaniris shook her helm and looked at Grace, asking her to continue, "Please continue." A peacock called in the distance, and one of her golden foxes was startled into the wood by the sparklings playing out on the lawn and by the shore.

Grace knew by now why Eleaniris sometimes didn't hear. It was probably difficult to share a mind with… someone like that, though Eleaniris never described their communication like that. " _We use words to explain complex ideas to one another as a species, but with the bond," Eleaniris had smiled, "we don't need words. The emotions are so refined that they speak for themselves, so detailed that words cannot describe them. The feelings are all there for the both of us to understand."_

Even though she knew now that she and Soundwave were Endurae, she only received brief flickers of the strongest feelings. Nothing like that which Eleaniris experienced.

"What are your plans?" Grace shifted on her cushions with a wince, obviously a result of Soundwave's return. Eleaniris knew as well the outcome of their mechs returning from their campaigns. There was a time when they would have to stay within their rooms, sometimes even within the berth, because of their mate's increased appetite upon their arrival. Now it was better but there were still traces. Her own valve would twinge if she were to twist a certain way.

However, Grace would only ask such a question if she had a secret. Because bitlets needed transfluid to build their protoforms, it was necessary that carrying femmes be taken on trips. Grace already had a sweet femling, designated Faline, who was between Eleaniris' first and second sets of triplets in age. She knew that those femmes who were not carrying would take care of any Creations that the leaving femme had. Younglings couldn't be taken onto warships, after all.

For the last trip, Sophia, Marissa, Grace, and Talia had "babysitted" her children. Now, Grace wanted to find out whether any more "abnormal trips" (ones where Eleaniris wasn't pregnant but went anyway) were set for the next months. Eleaniris had a hunch and acted on it.

"You are carrying again, aren't you?" Grace smiled and nodded, shyly biting her lip and looking down at her flat midriff, laying a servo over it protectively.

"Yes," she mused, "Knockout thinks it might be twins this time."

"Congratulations," Eleaniris looked delighted and Grace laughed lightly.

"Thank you."

The Queen sat forward on her cushions, casting a glance to the side to check on the younglings. Simmons and Wilson were in the midst of a game with them, making her smile. Her children loved dearly their "uncles."

"You will most likely be going on the next trip then!" Talia congratulated, shifting the hungry seekerlet in her arms as it contentedly suckled. Odd to remember that such an act being done in public had once been taboo.

The Empress' handmaid grinned at her friend's enthusiasm. "Yes, if there is one while I am carrying."

"I am sure that there will be." Eleaniris smiled encouragingly. It didn't matter if, by now, all except Marissa had been into space at least once. It was positively thrilling and never an experience that would grow old…

Even if she could do without the gut-wrenching, backwards feeling of space bridges. "I don't see Megatron stopping anytime soon."

The femmes chuckled, Sophia smirking. "He does not let up when he decides he wants something, does he?"

"No," Eleaniris smiled, "not one bit."

"Well," Talia began, releasing the full sparkling and allowing it to settle itself in her lap, "since Grace is preparing a new addition, can we expect any news from you Marissa dear?" She used her "I want all the details" voice that they all knew very well by now.

Poor Marissa choked and produced a rare stutter "W-well-"

"Thundercracker is  _perfect_." Sophia said, "He is compassionate, yet fierce and loyal to his cause. He doesn't have the opinion on humans that most 'Cons have either."

Eleaniris knew, that when Megatron inevitably heard this, he was going to overcompensate again.

Talia added, "What are you waiting for? He is a  _dream_."

Marissa looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "I'm still getting to know him." Eleaniris nodded her approval, and that was the end of the discourse.

They were friends but it was clear that she was the boss here, and Eleaniris would not tolerate Marissa being pushed into a decision. She knew the feeling of walls closing in on all sides of your soul, a relentless, crushing force that squeezed self will. Peer pressure had no place here while she was in charge, especially one that tried to force an implied sexual relationship. It wasn't fair nor right, and Eleaniris wasn't going to allow anyone to be placed in that position again.

Eleaniris nodded at the femmes as she and Sophia stood to leave, "I will see you all later." Sophia knew to stay silent, part of the reason Eleaniris let her come.

Her ride was most of the only time that she had to herself and she needed to relax before her sons arrived. She nodded at Wilson in silent thanks, and he smiled and dipped his helm as the Queen and medic's assistant went to get their mounts. Borealis squawked unhappily and went back to the sparklings, jealous that her mistress was spending time with someone else.

Wheelie patted her shoulder from his place on her back - safe from Eleaniris' rather curious children. Wilson hushed her and intoned, supervising the younglings on the shore, "She needs her time. You two both know how special you are to her."

Borealis grunted lowly.

* * *

Eleaniris dismounted Ambrosia quickly, handing the cyber-horse's reins to the waiting drone. Sophia followed suit with the reins of Esquire before they turned around curtly and walked back up to the massive palace, where they parted ways without a word. Sophia knew better than to initiate conversation with Eleaniris in silence. Just because she was quiet didn't mean that Eleaniris wasn't talking.

By that smirk on her face, she definitely was.

Eleaniris walked past the consoles of the busily working femmes, lost in her own thoughts. Her younglings followed obediently in a line, whispering and giggling at their friends as they played beneath their Carriers' desks.

Therefore Eleaniris did not even notice Talia's own giggle as she walked into her office, coming around to sit at her mahogany desk - a replica of the one that used to occupy the Oval Office, seemingly so long ago. She had two of them - one upstairs in the office of her quarters, one here. Without the bond she would have thought of the gift as an insult, a mockery, instead of the thoughtful present it was.

There was much she wouldn't have without the awakening that had occurred because of the bond.

She lowered herself to sit in the padding of the winged chair, not bothering with trying to keep her babies out of her lap. They chirped up at her, some mumbling garbled beginnings of words. She smiled and surrounded them with her arms. "You're almost too big to sit in mommy's lap anymore all at once," the Queen cooed down at her young, laughing lightly at their higher-pitched, excited chirps at her attention. She thought it was for her, anyway.

"Boo."

She spasmed, wings flashing out out of pure reflex, before her spark calmed her at recognition of the deep, gravelly baritone. The younglings' laughs were deafening.

"Megatron!" Eleaniris tilted her helm back in indignation, staring up at him with exasperation. "Stop that!" His helm rocked back in a roar of a laugh, a servo grasping the high back of her chair to spin it around.

"Never," he purred, optics flickering between her and their kids in elation., "How could I keep from teasing you?"

She started to answer, but stopped when he bent to pick her up bridal style, the sparklings laughing their adorable laughter as they stayed in her lap and atop her belly.

"I have work to do!" It was weak, and she flinched at her own answer.

"That is correct." The femmes pretended not to see anything as he walked by their consoles, undoubtedly knowing that he was there all along. He must have come in while she was still out on her ride but they had returned.

Traitors.

"But your work is elsewhere for the moment." The warlord grinned widely, thoroughly pleased at taking an early leave. "Your older ones need assistance with their assignments." Something in his tone betrayed that that was not the only thing he wanted her for now.

"Buckethead." she murmured in weak protest. He chuckled and kissed her on the helm, purring as their younglings made disgusted noises. His spark pulsed contentedly as he set her down and restored his size, scooping his mate and offspring into a single servo with a deep chuckle.

Behind them, forgotten, stood Simmons and Wilson, following obediently. For one it was normal, and for the other it was an assurance.

So long as Megatron liked her, Eleaniris wielded influence. As he had overheard her tell Optimus Prime in a one-on-one briefing, " _As we humans say, the man may be the head of the house but the woman is the neck that moves the head in any way desired."_

And Eleaniris' control did not seem to be waning any time soon.

* * *

Megatron usually took all but the youngest down to the training room in the afternoons, where they would practice and refine what their instructors had taught them earlier. Her mate only tolerated the best from their younglings, and when they returned they were typically exhausted. After they had their Energon rations together Megatron and her eldest would go to their separate quarters and clean up, leaving her to wash down the younger ones in the washracks in her own rooms.

Then, after managing to keep Zephyr from refuelling on bubbles, she would escort the six youngest to their shared berthroom and read them their story. Sometimes the older ones would join, but tonight it was Flare's - one of her middle set of triplets - turn to pick and he always chose the same one, much to the chagrin of Ramses, Cyrus, and Caesar.

With her younglings seated around her sides, the youngest triplets in her lap, and the oldest sitting on one of the berths, she began to read, "Once there was a beautiful young girl called Persephone. Her mother was Demeter, the goddess of the growing things. Demeter and her daughter lived in a world where it was always summer. Green things were always blooming and the sun shone warm and sweet."

Thanks to her, her children knew these things. She couldn't imagine raising children in a world where Megatron had not severed her chains by freeing her people, allowed her to teach them what she wanted to. She probably wouldn't even have any children, she would have been so scared and stressed. Eleaniris tried not to fumble with the story, a wave of gratitude washing over her.  _If things had continued down that path… I don't know what I would have done._

Except she did know. The answer just scared her.

"Hades, god of the Underworld, was lonely in his kingdom. It was cold, wet, and dark in the world of the dead. From his place in the Underworld, he had seen Persephone's innocent beauty grow to radiance. He desperately wanted her to be his Queen of the Underworld."

"One day while she was out with her friends, Persephone felt a trembling beneath her feet and heard a rumbling. The ground split open and Hades appeared driving a chariot. He snatched Persephone and took her back into the earth with him. The ground closed up again with a huge roar and all that was left of Persephone was a bunch of flowers on the ground."

The younglings gasped, entranced. The older three stayed quiet, their father having taught them well to respect their mother and skip unnecessary remarks.

"Demeter searched everywhere, but she could not find her daughter. For days and days she looked for Persephone. Her grief was so great that the earth began to grow cold and all the green things died. There was no food, and a terrible hunger came to the people."

"In the Underworld, meanwhile, Persephone came to see that Hades wasn't as scary as she first thought. He had been so lonely in the Underworld, and he told her of his longing to keep her there with him."

"However, Persephone missed her mother and the bright world above ground and she hardly looked like the beautiful girl she had been before. Her golden hair had grown dull, and her rosy cheeks were pale. Persephone knew that if she ate or drank anything in the Underworld, she would have to stay there forever. Even though Hades begged her to have just a sip, or one bite of food, she didn't."

"She didn't die?" Nova asked, his little grey optics curious. His helm was shaped similarly to how her father's had been, an echo of human genetics coming to mix with Cybertronian coding.

"She was close," Eleaniris offered, deep in thought. "But she did not die."

She continued as her younglings settled back down, all of their optics on the datapad she held before them all. "Demeter had finally learned where Persephone was and insisted that she be returned to her. Hades sadly hitched his horses to his chariot and prepared to take Persephone back. But before they left, he offered Persephone one last thing to eat – the seeds of a ripe, blood red pomegranate."

Eleaniris, deep in her thought, deviated from what was on the page. Though it said that Persephone ate six of the seeds, for once she changed the monotonous tale. At the corner of her vision she saw Megatron quietly enter, watching her and waiting to wish his younglings a good recharge before taking his older ones to his lessons.

"Persephone almost refused the King, angry that he had kept her and wanting to return to her mother. But then she looked into Hades' eyes and saw his loneliness, his sorrow that she was going to leave." The three eldest of the six with her were narrowing their optics, looking from her to the words and back to her, finding a clear difference. The older ones wondered what she was doing as well, but were much more discrete.

"She realised that he had taken care of her, loved her in a way no one else had. Persephone accepted the fruit, but did not eat it. She demanded that he take her back to her mother and Hades, tired of seeing his Queen miserable and sad, did as she asked."

"They went back above ground, up through a crack in the earth. Persephone threw herself into her mother's arms, joyous to be reunited. The earth again grew rich with flowers and the sun shone once more, for Demeter was happy."

"But then, Persephone stepped away from her mother." She looked up, making optic contact with her mate across the room. The younglings watched, annoyed as she recited the different story, not even looking at the datapad. Her voice was airy, light, the tone of one who knew something another didn't.

"Then Persephone opened her hand, looking at her palm. 'I'm sorry, mother,' she said to Demeter, and then she turned to Hades."

"Looking him in the eye, Persephone willingly ate the twelve rich, red, juicy seeds and committed herself to Hades, as his Queen, his only friend, for all eternity."

There was a pause in which the weight of her gaze with her husband was natural, silent, but so much more. Then Nova piped up again, seeker winglets flicking, " _Mom_ , it says right there that she stayed, half with the King and half with her mom. He tricked her into eating those six seeds too!"

Megatron looked at her curiously, but stayed still and silent. Eleaniris didn't turn to her sparkling as she responded, "Sometimes, dearest, people don't tell the truth." He dipped his helm the tiniest bit, understanding what she was referring to.

When television was finally being broadcast again and news shows were operating, it was obvious what one of the topics would be - what exactly had happened between the last human leader and Megatron. Three prominent theories quickly emerged, two seemingly naive and the third disgusting.

According to one, he had captured her to be a pet and she was a patriot who had sacrificed herself to save her people. The other implied that he had taken a sort of sick liking to her, explaining why she was looked well-taken-care-of, why he had crowned her Queen. He set her people free in a deal to keep her and do as he wished. According to both of these, she was living as a slave in the home of the Decepticon Emperor, paying off her debt with her frame.

The last said that she was not killed because she had conspired with him, made the American military look weak on purpose with intentional misinformation and orders to stand down. Her motive was that she wanted more power, that being President wasn't enough, and therefore she had used him to conquer the world on the condition that she would rule with him. Her plan backfired and he took her as a "Slave Queen," destroying her and reducing her to nothing without her even knowing that she was a slave. The humans, in this theory, were set free because the Decepticons had found them to be unsuitable for slave labour, instead allowing them to breed and then pick them out to be consorts.

This theory had broken her heart when she first heard it. It had started off as most of the public believing her to be a good, protagonistic human hero, but with the later generations they were becoming more skeptical.

She did an interview on a show once to try to remind them, to try to gain something of her old life back. Even then, she remembered the cuffs she had had to wear, the act she had had to put on, the skirts that had become normal suddenly too skimpy. To think of all she had sacrificed so that they could paint her as the villain...

Megatron set his servo on her shoulder, startling her. She hadn't noticed he had moved and that the six youngest were all in their berths as she sat in the armchair. She rose her optics to stare into his, sparks rapidly exchanging their emotions and raw thoughts.

Cyrus looked at her oddly, optics a thin red slit they were narrowed so far, lagging behind his brothers. Caesar and Ramses appeared bored and were happy to leave, going out as their Sire had told them to.

She allowed him to pick her up, leaning her helm complacently against his broad chassis. "Recharge well, mechlings." Most were too tired to reply, but there were some chirps and mumbles of acknowledgement.

 _To think of all that has happened so that I could be here,_ Megatron returned in the bond, making her smile as her gloom was banished.

* * *

"I received a ping from Grace earlier. She would like to have me and the sparklings go visit in the Hamptons." Eleaniris informed matter-of-factly, letting the smaller Megatron wash her as she sat in her heated tub, tired from the long day. She would return the favour later with her own frame worshiping.

She had learned some tricks, mostly from the VIP night and strip club Euphoria. Every so often Megatron would have to attend the parties thrown by his officers or the social elite of Eleanicon, and typically that was the venue. There was a time Eleaniris hated cocktail parties, and for a period she had wished with all of her soul to go to one of those instead of a glorified orgy. In this knowledge Megatron could not enjoy it if she was uncomfortable, but he did have to keep up his public appearances. One thing had led to another at one of the early parties and she had learned a few…  _things_  about pleasuring a mech.

"You know why I can't go." She nodded, deep in thought.

"You have to assert a line. I understand." Megatron kissed her audio, thanking her for her understanding. It was hard to have friends when she knew that she was easily Megatron's only one, aside from Soundwave. Even with Soundwave, however, there was scant familiarity.

Sensing he was becoming uncomfortable, she spoke lowly, "I was thinking of writing a book."

"Oh?" He sounded surprised, as did his spark over the bond, making her own life-force giggle.

"Yes," she snickered, " _Peace Achieved_."

His servos removed themselves as he leaned backwards in roaring laughter that reverberated off the walls of the washrack, amused to no end at her pun about his own work. "Silly American," he purred, kissing her on the cheek, "You do not understand when to stop."

"Yes, well," she smiled, baring denta in her amusement, "We Americans do have a habit of winning revolutions against empires that we cannot possibly beat."

He chuckled, reaching under the bubbles and solvent to grab her waist in a single servo and lift her from her spot. She gasped a surprised "Oh!" as he seated himself in the tub and lowered her back to his lap, the thickness of his pressurized arousal obvious beneath her aft. How long had he left  _that_  out?

"The more I know about you, the more you seem to surprise me," he cooed into her audio, circling his massive arms around her to cinch tight and pull her flush against him. "So rebellious, you little thing."

Red washed over the tub as he opened his chestplates behind her, releasing an EM field that licked at her frame with thick arousal, so heavy and powerful that she panted as she was squished beneath its power. The solvent became far too hot.

She spread her legs in his lap, mouth open as he took the rag and rubbed over her panels firmly, sensually. The Empress arched against his chassis, the metal on the top of her head screeching against that on the bottom of his chin. Smirking he palmed one of her mounds with his other servo, squeezing mercilessly as he groped her. She squealed, the tanks still very sensitive from her younglings, even though she had weaned them in preparation for her trip months ago.

Their size had gone down much, no longer carrying the Energon needed by sparklings. They became rather large when she was nursing, having to make enough for three hungry mouths. Then, when they were weaned, she was still producing thanks to Megatron. He would always ask for the "leftovers" when she was nursing but after that, when the sparklings were old enough to take medium-grade, he would often drink all that she had, whether after their interface, as a mid-interface snack, or without warning throughout the day. However she could only stop producing - as Knockout had said was required - once the Energon was not being consumed, as much as he hated that. He said that it tasted good.

According to the memory she was privy to, it did.

Eleaniris opened her panels just as he removed his servos from her. Whining she ground herself downwards against him in protest. "Please," she whispered, trying to keep herself from screaming so that Wilson and Simmons wouldn't come running.

They were excellent bodyguards, despite qualms that Megatron had had about the latter. Burns and Lennox, to their credit, were also doing well on the other side of the ocean. They worked alongside the Autobots and Optimus Prime to monitor and protect the "human Earth" from any hostile alien activity. Their duties were only expected to increase as more and more territory was annexed by Decepticon rule, adding more and more to her plate.

At least Megatron had allowed her to create a secret blacklist for those that she felt did not deserve or simply couldn't care for another sentient being. Barricade's had been the first designation, fuelled by her bitter hatred, followed quickly by the names of the rest of the D.J.D. and Shockwave. Unfortunately, the Phase Sixers had not been so easy to deny automatically. It was more complex, difficult, and the outcome was not what she had wished at all.

Snarling she twisted around so that she was facing him, legs straddling his lap and port sitting atop his spike. Purring deeply he kissed her forehelm, her need and flustered state comical. To think that the femme rubbing herself against him had been left by her kind's males, rejected and alone, biological clock almost out of time.

Yet her calls for Prince Charming had attracted something else, a being that decided that it liked her. He broke the clock in its final hour, stealing away his bride with satisfaction. He smirked when he thought of how miserable she had been, how turned-off she was of masculinity, contrasting extraordinarily with her whines and curvy aft massaging his lap.

"I am rather exhausted, my mate." He yawned mockingly, cherishing her growls, and then moved to cup her backside in one swift, quick motion that made her yelp and give him a glare. "Or, rather,  _you_  will be."

He grabbed her hips and threw her over his shoulder, standing from the tub and climbing out with ease. Eleaniris let herself swing from side to side, excited and aroused. Megatron eyed the aft next to his helm as he grabbed a towel from the elegant side table, deciding to give it a little lick.

The mewl he received was not disappointing, Eleaniris giddy and eager, fatigue a distant memory. Effortlessly he took her off of him, setting her down with mock roughness to similarly  _scrub_ the liquid off of her. He went down her whole frame with coarse passes of the soft towel, especially on the insides of her sturdy thighs. Megatron ignored her port, continuing down her legs nonchalantly.

"I think you missed - " His glossa darted out as she gave him his opening, laving a long, slow, hard pass over her port and between her folds, summarily drying her while eliciting a gasp from his shaking Queen. She was more easily aroused now than she had been - Megatron swelled up with pride, knowing that it was his spike and glossa that made her so eager and whorish.

Quickly drying off his lower half, he threw the towel to the side and grabbed her again, cupping her aft in a servo and purring when she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was beautiful, optics so wanton and lustful, her arms coiling around his neck as she nuzzled against his faceplates.

"So handsome and strong," a gentle servo slipped down to caress his spark chamber, making his field and spark flare. Eleaniris purred, opening her chestplates to bare her own spark.

The two pulsed in excitement, each extending tendrils of energy to intertwine and play. She felt a powerful yank and Megatron did as well, the Decepticon leader stumbling as he reached her berth.

She was laid down, but before he could pin her properly beneath him she rolled and got to her pedes. The Emperor raised an optic ridge at her, his spark sending hers a wave of emotion that translated to  _what are you doing?_

She wanted to play first. She wanted to be chased, and her spark was in on it. Her pedes took her in a circle around the sunken bed, her hips taking on a mind of their own as they swayed seductively, stand similar to that of a prowling cat. Megatron merely watched her from his Queen's sunken bed, trying to decipher her behaviour.

"Do you know how the Na'vi chose their mounts?" Eleaniris purred it as if she was trying to seduce him. She understood not what her goal was, and for once she was simply spontaneous with her mate.

"I have not the slightest idea." He sounded half bored, half going along. She probed the bond that they had carefully learned to numb, seeing that he didn't know where she was going either but was happy to oblige her. There were few times that he wasn't willing to play in the afternoons.

"The bond with their ikrans, their steeds, is for life." She continued full circle, wary to be sure to stay out of his reach. "When they chose, they pick not the ikran that flies away," She stopped before him, taking a wide stance and placing her servos on her bare hips. "But the one that roars back."

In a flash a servo shot out and seized her ankle, a surprised cry tearing itself free from her throat. Effortlessly the warlord yanked her under his frame, crushing her with his shrunken weight once he was sure of her position. Eleaniris smirked at the spike prodding her belly, the hot-poker burning sensation familiar and no longer threatening as it had been. The optics above her surged with lust and love that caressed her soul and spark.

"That is exactly why I picked you." He nuzzled her cheek, cupping its twin with his servo. Silence ensued as she stared up at him, the Sire of their offspring, protector of her home and people, the soulmate she had longed for.

He, in turn, regarded her without walls, allowing her to see the half of him that was kept exclusively for her, his Queen, the Carrier of their sparklings. His Head (and only) Ambassador. "Have I tamed you, my rebellious ikran?" She laughed, white optics soft with infatuation that made his spark melt.

Megatron chuckled too, pressing the tips of their nasal ridges together. "I love you, sweetspark."

Eleaniris purred, rubbing her ridge against his, "And I love you too."

They closed their optics in unison as white and red blended to make pink, their bond manifesting itself as their sparks joined again, eyes and optics, heart and spark at last united.

Then their optics onlined, experiences one and the same. Deep within three new lives grew, new innocence to purify old stains. Their circle went full as their endings faded away and their beginnings grew brighter, night giving way to dawn to find the Emperor his Empress at peace, ready to start again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, my loyal followers, but the end has come. I tried to postpone it by waiting (Did I really update this last in September? Whoops) but I must give you the ending you deserve. I can't believe that nearly a year has passed, and thank you all for going on this journey with me! You guys deserve medals. 
> 
> Please leave your final thoughts and/or opinions! I love you all so much and thank you for sharing this experience with me!
> 
> Also - the last chapter is an alternate ending of this story. More details in the that chapter.


	74. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author cries.

**Author’s Note**

I have decided, due to popular demand, to continue writing stories in this AU universe I have created. They will be mostly one shots, and will be posted under this account as  **_EOBN Oneshots,_ ** each chapter containing a separate story. If any of these become multi-part works, they will become separate stories on this site. 

Thank you all so very much for all of your support. Even if you didn’t review, the fact that you got here to read this author’s note is wonderful and I feel so happy. 

I had decided to publish this story a year ago after it had been floating around in my head for two years. That’s right, I had to take  _ two years _ to muster up enough courage to post this here. I thought that it wouldn’t be getting any attention at all, but after a year of writing I am so glad that I did. I have improved so much as a writer and have had the privilege of meeting some excellent, dedicated people and I am happy that I embarked on this adventure with you all. Therefore, it is with great sadness that I hit the “complete” button for this story and close the final cover. 

But fear not, because the story goes on! 

_ LittleBittyPretty1 _


	75. Alternate Epilogue: The Pursuit of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
> 
> Only two of her unalienable rights had brought Eleaniris to this ledge. The third had died long ago, only to be buried at this moment with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably be the darkest thing I will ever write. If you don’t like dark, dark, dark things, this isn’t for you. If you can think it, its in here. Language, sex, slavery, abuse, its all here.  
> This is an “Alternate Ending” to my fanfiction Endings of Old and Beginnings New.  
> This deviates after the chapter where Megatron spark-merges with Eleaniris. They do not see each other’s memories. If you were wondering what Circuistia was so worried about happening without viewing each other’s experiences, this is it.

It had hurt just as much as she thought it would. As soon as Megatron had finished whatever he was doing with their sparks, he nuzzled her faceplates and ground himself against her in preparation for his entrance. It was just as hard and rough as it was when he rammed his whole length into her, hitting her cervix on the first try while simultaneously tearing away her hymen. She had felt like someone had shoved their arm all the way up her port to palpate her like a cow, only to yank it back out and push it back in with the force of a punch each time. He had told her that she would stretch and the pain would stop, and his concern actually reached her through her own spark.

He was right. It wasn't long before she was stretched out.

She tried to avoid looking at what that monster had done to her on the first night - at least it wasn't painful anymore. Now, all she received were pleasure signals from her sensors, her spark and his spark. They could sense the other's emotions now, and it terrified her.

Every time she felt like crying that it was not her lover but her enslaver grunting and groaning as he fragged her raw, and every time she told herself to pretend that he loved her.  _Humanity is free because you do this_ , she would think, which caused her to try to return his brutal thrusts so that he would be more sated and less likely to enslave her people again. After so much time spent with him like this, with every night devoted to such activities, she was beginning to feel something for him.

Something in her belly, too. Of course, with the amount he ejaculated into her daily, she was surprised that she hadn't gotten pregnant sooner - not that he had ever bothered to tell her how she could be impregnated. The small bump on her lower stomach had become a permanent feature on her frame, where the plating was bent outwards from Megatron's seed, and so it was hard to tell until she felt something more solid down there.

Knockout confirmed it for the both of them, and Megatron had been ecstatic that he was going to be a Sire. She had only small feelings for him, but the thought of a new life growing within her made her smile a little back. It wasn't the child's fault that its father was a sadistic, cruel monster. As far as Eleaniris was concerned, her baby was innocent.

Megatron had been increasingly protective of his Queen, which was why she didn't ever leave the palace grounds. She didn't mind terribly, but the city did look beautiful. As soon as human labor had stopped and Cybertronian labor had taken up the slack, construction had moved along much more quickly. The mechs were bigger and able to do more than the humans ever had been able to do and so the city had grown tremendously.

She didn't see enslaved humans around the palace anymore - all there were were cleaning drones. Eleaniris had of course wondered what had happened to her people, but proof of forced human labor was gone. As the evidence was absent, she was growing more and more complacent with her role though she missed a human presence.

Megatron wasn't abusive, especially since she was carrying his young, and she didn't ask for much. She behaved how he wanted her to - slow dances, interfacing in his berth, dining with him, and even watching things with him. The paintings she posed for were definitely erotic and she had decided to make a game with it, pretending that she was posing for a loving husband and not a ruthless monster. He had freed her people, and she was grateful, but she definitely didn't love him. She owed him, their relationship that of a debtor and a debtee, and that was all; she was happy that he had kept his end of the bargain and nothing more was necessary.

Until she left the grounds.

It was odd for Megatron to take her anywhere anymore - he was a very, very busy mech. However, one day after she had rolled out of the sticky bed in her quarters, feeling the familiar and heavy slosh of his thick transfluid in her belly (some fresh from last night), to see that he was waiting for her outside the door to her apartment.

He had smiled in greeting, scooping her up and smelling her belly with a contented nuzzle. She was used to this by now, and sensed what he wanted was his kiss. Once he had pulled away she had given it to him, long and sweet as he liked it, on the underside of his jaw. He purred deeply, the sound like rolling thunder as his Slave Queen greeted him.

She would never forget that morning when he had told her that they were leaving the palace and gardens to find something special for her. He informed her it was for their anniversary - which she wanted to snarl at, given that it sounded like a mockery though his spark pulsed good-naturedly at hers - and that he had taken the day off to celebrate the year that they had been together. Megatron had said that he knew she didn't see the femmes at all outside of formal gatherings, as their mechs had moved out into the expensive apartments over the wall, and he wanted to do something special with her.

Eleaniris had shrugged, fine with it. If he wanted to take her out into the city of her namesake, there was nothing wrong with that. He was her owner, her  _Master_ , after all; she "lived to serve," as he had used to say of her people, and as a slave she couldn't argue. It was not her place to do so.

She had sat complacently on his shoulder as he left through the heavy, solid iron gates to the city beyond. A complete boulevard lined by other buildings and highrises awaited them, running all the way to the gates of the tall, imposing buildings of Decepticon Command. It wasn't empty either, but all activity stopped as soon as the entourage of the Decepticon Emperor stepped out into the street. Immediately the guards in front of Megatron cleared a path for the Supreme Commander and his Slave Queen, though most of the crowd of civilians and soldiers stepped aside of their own will and dipped their helms with respect.

It was a nice, crisp autumn day. A clear blue sky looked just as she remembered it being before the Invasion, now only… two years ago? It felt like an eternity. Even as she was gazing around in wide-opticed wonder of the huge buildings now suddenly close up, she did not miss Megatron's optics peering at her to the side, the corner of his mouth that she could see up in a small smirk.

She was sure that, to mechs his size, it would be like walking around in New York City. The size of it all, so unfathomably  _enormous_ , made her feel like a mouse.

They had turned left onto a side street, more Decepticons stepping out of the way to grant room for the imposing form of their Emperor to pass through. Few looked at her, dressed in her sweeping purple cape, jewels and crown, and merely eyed the ground instead. Salutes had made her optics burn and hails had made her audios bleed, but that was old news then. She had grown to be indifferent - as long as Megatron had kept his deal, she was alright with whatever. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Neither could Slave Queens; who knew that the poor and the wealthy could have so much in common?

The marketplace, almost eerily old-fashioned by Earth standards and very odd to see Cybertronians taking part in, had a very high-end feeling to it. As soon as the merchants had found out about the Decepticons conquering and settling upon Earth, they had streamed in like flies to fresh meat. They all wanted to set up their own monopoly and conduct business - this she didn't know until much later, and the oddly-normal aspect to militant society of the Decepticons made much more sense.

But as it was, it set her teeth on edge. Something just wasn't  _right_  here, and the second she heard a human squeal was the second her spark stopped pulsing.

Panic overcame her, so much that Megatron openly glanced at her and inquired what was wrong. She hadn't responded but merely bitten her lip and shaken her helm, not happy at all but holding on to the fleeting hope that it would be alright. She prayed harder than she ever had, the words forever ingrained in her memory from that point forwards:

_Oh please, dear Lord. Don't let my sacrifice be for naught. Don't let this all be for nothing._

_Please, have mercy. Please, God. Don't let this be what I think it is._ _**Please** _ _._

It was, but only worse.

When Megatron walked by merchants selling unclothed humans, she had screamed helplessly in her heart for it to be a nightmare. Yet it wasn't - the world was a very cruel place, and it had only gotten darker.

 _Pets,_ she had cried in her mind,  _Dear God,_ _ **why**_ _?_ She had only seen a few seconds, but those few seconds were burned into her spark for the rest of her life.

Two nameless mechs were observing the clear, high-walled box of human women, one of them holding a red-haired teenage girl roughly and inspecting her nude form. She cried for him to stop as he prodded her breasts, tears streaming down her face, but the mech paid no attention as his clawed finger went to inspect the apex of her slim thighs. She squeaked and swatted at the servo ineffectively, the mech smirking at the helpless display. She would never forget how the girl had squirmed and how the mech had purred at her, dark intentions written in his red optics.

" _There's a good one."_ The merchant had jerked his chin at the one the mech was holding, " _She has her seal still intact, and her fertility has tested very high."_

A squeak and a snarl mangled together only to die in her throat.  _Not pets,_ she thought,  _ **mates**_ _._

_They are buying mates so that they might petition for Cyberformation, I'll bet._

Just as Megatron almost exited earshot, the mech holding the girl in his fist had asked, " _And human pets? Do you recommend those? To keep her company?"_

The other mech added with sadistic glee, " _You should get two males and make them fight over her!"_

" _But I like this one."_ He stroked the girl's long hair despite her thrashing, " _She'll be a pretty one once she's one of us."_

 _Oh dear God, what have I done?_ She couldn't stop herself from tearing up - who could after seeing that? It was  _horrible_.

Just as bad was that she had given him  _everything_  to avoid this. Her virginity and herself had been the only things she had had left, and he had taken them too on a false promise. She had  _nothing_  left to use as leverage. Absolutely  _ **nothing**_ _._

In that instant, overwhelming stress had reared its ugly mug in her spark again. Megatron, now sure that something was amiss, stopped completly and the guards with him. "Precious, what's wrong?"

 _ **Everything**_ _, you_ _ **jackass**_ _._   _I've given you_ _ **everything**_   _in my life, small and large, and where did it get me?_

 _No._   _ **Fucking.**_   _Where._

"Just take me back to the palace." Her voice was broken, as was her back. She couldn't fight anymore; he had sucked all of it out of her. Not even a sob could escape her chest, as much as it wished to. "I-I can't do this right now." Her spirit was done. Megatron had nullified  **everything**  she had done before and after the Invasion, her life's achievements  _erased_  because it  _suited_  him. How could things get any worse for her?

Then the contraction had hit.

Her belly had rounded well, the sparkling clearly showing then, but nowhere near birthing time. She bent forwards in her seat, crying out as another powerful push shoved it against the right side of her - towards the hatch that Knockout had said would form under her protoform armor.

She cried out in pain and Megatron turned around, ordering in the suddenly panicked marketplace that she hold on to him. He had transformed around her, guards and mechs jumping backwards, the humans screeching in surprise as his jets roared and he flew himself back towards the medbay.

* * *

Eleaniris never saw that baby. Megatron wouldn't tell her what had happened, and it was only until he was gone to leave her to recover that Knockout had. The medic's "truth" was a lie, and she knew in her heart the real reason.

Her baby sensed that its mother was scared, that its mother didn't want it.  _This is no world for a sparkling_ , her subconscious had decided in that instant in the marketplace. She had birthed a dead, half-developed child. Knockout had said that it was from complications with "how much she had been moving," but she hadn't moved hardly at all. She barely went anywhere on her own - Megatron insisted on carrying her, after all, and if he wasn't toting her around like the trophy she was she was trying to sleep the pain away in her berth.

The baby had died within her as a result of its mommy suddenly shocked, suddenly angry, suddenly in wordless  _agony_  all over again. In short, her stress at the realisation that nothing she did mattered had killed her sparkling, the only pure thing left in her world. But she was numb now and the emotional pain at losing a child was a grain of sand on her steadily growing mountain.

 _Megatron shouldn't be responsible for caring for one so innocent anyway,_  she had told herself.  _A monster shouldn't have offspring. He'll ruin them with his own darkness._ Regardless, those thoughts did nothing to hinder her tears.

She wouldn't be able to stop his indoctrination either. She was powerless against him, a true failure of a President. She didn't deserve that title. He had brought her to her knees with hardly a push in the beginning, and from there it was easy to keep her in his shadow. It was like an ant trying to fight the comparably enormous anteater - all of it would be in vain anyway. Didn't he call her his doll a few times?

Eleaniris had cried until there were no more tears to give, for both herself and her dead baby, and Megatron holding her to his chassis and shushing her, feeling her anguish in his spark, only made things worse. He tried so hard to reassure her, telling her that they would make another, and it didn't get him anywhere with her. She knew he would try again, which made it even worse.

Eleaniris became limp when he interfaced with her, her optics offlined and her helm to the side. She let him do as he pleased, becoming the rag doll she had believed herself to be all along. It turned out that losing a sparkling made him try all the harder for another. He was using her like the sex slave and breeding machine that she had given herself away as, and it didn't seem to matter much anymore. Wilson tried so hard to keep her motivated with hugs and whispered conversation, but Burns and Lennox eventually took it upon themselves to avenge their President.

Attempting to stop Megatron from interfacing with his mate was a very,  _very_  bad idea. She still remembered Energon splashing down upon her back as he ripped their cyberformed bodies apart in the air over her downwards-facing form, thinking that they had stepped out of line and she could do with a single guard.

And then he commenced to frag her from behind, Lennox and Burns more martyrs for a likewise dead cause. She was too, to an extent. She sank into a depression so deep she thought it couldn't get worse.

Of course, it did.

* * *

It wasn't the only miscarriage she had. It seemed like every other week, due to their "Conjunx Endurae" fertility compatibility and the frequency of interface and spark merges, that she gave birth to a dead glob of tender, fragile metal that might have grown into a baby.  _Her_  baby.

Eventually, Knockout recommended that Megatron give her a break from interfacing. He had been reluctant to do so since she was his  _ **sex**_  slave, but he obeyed. Her belly lost the slight transfluid bump and she stopped birthing corpses.

Instead, he spent the time at night stroking her or having her stroke him. Sometimes he didn't even bother with shrinking down, and she was forced to pleasure him as she had with Starscream's mechs; since her servos were far too small to properly serve the huge Decepticon Emperor's thick spike, she had to use her whole body to please him.

When she was done, she would limp off of his berth and to the bath to rid herself of the copious amount of transfluid he had spilled all over her. Disgusting, but it didn't matter anymore. She wasn't sure what did matter. The Empress felt as if she had lost track of what was up and what as down. It became normal for her to tell herself that sex wasn't sacred, that it didn't carry weight in her spark at all. Of course it still did, but she tried to shut it down anyway - she was even powerless against her own mind.

Not all nights were like this. Sometimes he was as merciful as a merciless being could ever be, and would keep his claws in the more chaste places. It wasn't harsh when he would pet her helm, but it still did nothing for her spark. She could feel herself sinking into a place she would never crawl out of.

She had sold him her life for free and he had taken advantage of her desperation and used her  _again_. Just like with the children he didn't keep his promise.

And so when he "proposed" - not even asking her, but simply placing the ring on her finger without so much as a question - the vows he had said were a joke. He didn't even bother with distinguishing between a proposal and a wedding. He was entitled to her, after all, even if he didn't keep his end of their bargain. If she could have nullified their contract she would have, but it would have gotten her nowhere and used what little energy she had now - she recharged a lot, but the exhaustion of her depression drained her. Regardless, she couldn't get anywhere. She was a hamster in a wheel - stopping or going made little difference, for she stayed in the same place. It was a question of energy.

There was no point in fighting him when the normal-sized Megatron would forcefully shove his spike against her small body, using her like some kind of toy with his servo held her body flush against his enormous rod. Fighting got her nowhere, and so she would wrap her arms and legs around him lest she be crushed by the spike her size. It was please him or face pulverization by the huge interfacing tool, at least in her mind.

His mind was quite the different question, but she didn't know that. If she had known that he thought he was trying something kinky with his tiny Queen, his "beautiful" mate, it wouldn't have made any difference. All she knew was that he was thrusting and grinding himself on her as he jerked off, that she didn't like it, and that she couldn't stop it.

After that, while she was passed out from sheer emotional and physical exhaustion, he had taken the servo with the ring and welded it to her finger. It was there for forever now, but it didn't matter. It would always be there, whether it was physically present or not. The ring was just another symbol, supposedly for eternal love, but in her case eternal suffering and slavery.

That she could not end.

* * *

A gladiator arena was the first thing to surprise her in a long time, but it also made twisted sense. Megatron, when he spoke of his gladiator days, hadn't exactly sounded tense like people did when they didn't like an unpleasant piece of their past. All of the evidence, in fact, pointed to him  _liking_  the spilling of Energon. Why wouldn't he like to spectate?

He just didn't have to drag her along. She wanted to wallow in her misery in her own berth. Even five years later, nothing was getting better.

But no. Here she was, sitting in his private skybox, waiting for him to come back with whatever dreadful "surprise" he had for her. The huge arena was filled to the brim with seated, chattering Decepticons. Eleaniris had thought that the soccer stadium in Pyongyang was huge, but this behemoth of cold steel and hot sand was nothing in comparison. Situated on the opposite side of Eleanicon from the palace, it took up a great space. The floor was probably a mile in diameter, stretching wide in a circle with plenty of room for whomever was fighting.

Megatron's skybox was sheer luxury, just as nice as her berthroom and just as detailed. There was something that looked suspiciously like a bar, an ornate dining table and chairs, one of the couch-styled benches that he had in his suite, and of course a throne. What was a tyrant without his throne?

It was not as imposing as the one in his throne room, but still very significant in size and detail. She shifted uncomfortably on the plush violet cushion placed at the foot of it, wondering where he was. Hopefully doing nothing terribly cruel - she could sense excitement over the bond.

Wilson and Borealis were with her, the bodyguard standing at attention next to her while Borealis voluntarily served as a backrest, her helm resting in her mistress' lap. Nothing was happening in the arena below, but a gate was starting to rise. Eleaniris bit her lip as she stared past the clear but slightly wavy energy field that served in the absence of glass, nervous about what was going on beyond the barrier. She was in no hurry for him to come back.

They had only come here for one reason: to watch a fight. Of course Megatron would be here, right? He wouldn't miss it, since he had said that this was a "christening" for the new stadium.

So what was going on?

Her nervousness evaporated with Megatron's appearance into the centre of the arena to the applause and shouts from the suddenly wild crowd. At the same time another figure appeared, blue and red paint dusty and chipped, the colors a hint to the Earth alt mode.

And the symbol to the faction. It could only mean one thing:  _ **Autobot**_.

He was defeated and tired in contrast to Megatron's triumphant, reassured gait. The mech stumbled in on unstable legs in a way that made Eleaniris think that that must have been how she walked after leaving Megatron's berth.

He was unarmed and she wasn't surprised that he wasn't cuffed - Megatron would want him to be like that. It couldn't be  _too_  easy, after all. Still this wasn't a fight, but a glorified execution.

She was surprised, however, at the horror cropping up in her chest. The former President - her term was over now - had thought that Megatron had done all that he could have to appall her. She thought that she had been completly numbed for things like this.

Evidently not.

But the hate did not stop growing as he declared publicly for the all audios to hear, "I dedicate this fight to my precious Queen, that she may see and be in awe." The audience laughed and Megatron grinned up at the box, but she did not return it.

Does one smile at a person who continued to  _ **soil**_  their name?

He dared to dirty her name further, not that it stung much at this point. How filthy could something get anyway? Once it was dirty, it was dirty.

She let her loathing flow freely over the bond, no longer worried about controlling it as she had learned to. Eleaniris let the door open for once in a long time and she could have sworn that she saw the tyrant's prideful stance falter, but it could have been her optics showing her what she wanted to see.

If only they did that more often.

"May my Eleaniris be proud when I slay her greatest threat: Optimus Prime." By God, what had  _happened_?

He had caught them. She had called the Autobots to Earth, only to draw them right into Megatron's open servos. For a brief moment, she hated herself for being such a fool to think that someone could save her from the beast pinning her beneath its claws. Soundwave had implied in that report that there were not many left - what had she been  _thinking_?

Thus, she felt ever kick in her own sides, every slash as one to her own spark, every punch in her own face. The feeling was not new, but dreadfully old. Lord, she was getting used to this.

This was her new normal.

She only realised that she was crying when Wilson put an arm around her shoulders, letting the action speak for itself.

The glorified "fight" -  _what a_ _ **fucking**_   _joke_  - lasted less than a few minutes, with Megatron scratchless and once again beaming up at her, his Slave Queen, while the crowd cheered and some spat on the Autobot slumped against the wall. All else was invisible to him.

She sneered right back, though she doubted that he saw it. Megatron only saw what he wanted to see.

No matter how often she wished and how hard she prayed, that spectacle was not the last.

Afterwards Megatron came up the box, cleaned and polished, to watch the next fight with her. As he sipped his highgrade and muttered fanatically under his breath, she stared ahead numbly feeling like Leia staring down into the Rancor pit from Jabba's throne.

However, neither Luke nor a Rancor was down there.

It was two Autobots, paint terribly scratched, forced to fight for the amusement of her, and now their, shared Master. She didn't understand why they would do this - none of what she had read of the Autobots had implied that they would do this.

She had asked just that: why they were fighting one another. Megatron told her that he had caught them all sneaking around a patrol ship five years earlier and had had them brought back. Instead of fighting Optimus Prime once and offlining him, Megatron had gloated to her less-than-impressed self that he had "settled" for fighting him many times and keeping him alive as a sparring partner.

He was harmless now anyway, with the "Achilles Heel" that Knockout and Shockwave had placed in the coding of the Autobot's mind. No longer could he kill Megatron, just like any of those enormous Phase Sixers that she had heard so much about - he had been quick to reassure that she didn't have to worry about him, as if she cared what happened to Megatron now.

The other Autobots had been the toys of the D.J.D., where their minds had been shattered into a billion pieces and they had become worse than savage animals. The two brawling below, using only their fists and pedes, were husks of who they had once been.

The fight was allowed to continue until they were both nearly offlined and then Megatron, barely able to speak over his own roaring laughter at the grotesque display, had ordered them to be repaired. However, she had looked away long before that point. She was numbed to many things now, but not to this, and had buried her face into Wilson's supporting chest.

It was all she could think of when Megatron laid her in his berth for some much-wanted interfacing when they returned home. All she could see was spilled Energon as Megatron pulled out of her, allowing his thick and excessive transfluid to seep out like the coldest molasses. All she could hear was the cries of bloodlust when he grunted sensually into her audio as he took her from behind, one arm curled around her waist while the other supported the both of them in a grip that she saw as crushing.

* * *

Knockout had suggested that she be given something to do. The medic had a lot of guts for saying what Megatron did not wish to hear.

But it was the suggestion of her medic and if Megatron wanted sparklings from her belly she had to have something to accomplish. A change of scenery, he had proposed, and a new goal would be sufficient.

What he had given her, though, must have been a joke when she looked back upon it now. It was way over the top for a tyrant's toy - he probably had laughed about it with his highest-ranking officers as they had watched her, the sex slave off her leash, try to work as a diplomat. It must have been like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.

But she had thrown her heart and soul into trying to save the Na'vi. She thought that it was an actual chance and that she was not simply spinning her wheels to provide amusement to the Decepticon officers or their barbaric  _monster_  of a Lord. If she had known, she might have just turned around and walked away, sparring herself and the Na'vi a heart-wrenching betrayal.

Eleaniris had been taught how to donn the holoform of a Na'vi female, the enjoyment at being organic again bringing her to shed a tear, the feeling of dirt between her toes eliciting a cry of joy that had made Megatron growl. She was brought to them and they taught her, filling the cup that the Decepticons had forcefully emptied.

Manually she learned the language and worked her way through the lessons seriously, learning how to love life again among the tribe that taught her her to hunt, showed her the ways of their religion and the peace of their lives. She was a hunter, a vital piece of the Omaticaya clan. She felt that she had  _purpose_  again and no longer was her sole role the berthtoy of an alien warmonger.

And so, when Megatron told her to tell them to move, she had tried to get them to listen. She wanted to save them from the awful death that was sure to occur if they disobeyed; none denied the master of the Decepticons for forever - she was living proof of that. Everyone that tried to keep the Decepticon beast from their home was simply making it harder for themselves. Wolves always ended up rolling over for the Alpha male, in this case entire planets for the hulking Megatron.

But they hadn't believed her and she should have known better. The Slave Queen can save no one - not even the blue indians that had become something like a family to her. They called her a traitor to their kind and Neytiri was the most emotional of them all. Her sweet, fierce friend Neytiri, the one that taught her  _everything_ about life among the tribal hunters, had turned on her as well and said that she would "never be one of the People."

How her heart had felt like breaking. She could never be a part of  _anyone's_  people, could she? Not while she wore the heavy chain and constricting collar of the Decepticon Queen, while she sat at the foot of Megatron's throne like the complacent little  **bitch**  she was. She had begged her case, crying that she loved them all and wanted to protect them, but none of that mattered.

It was all over when the Na'vi made the terrible mistake of binding her like an animal for the Decepticon Lord to see. It was an unforgivable transgression, apparently, for the Empress of the Decepticons to be tied up like the pet, the wretch, she was. Megatron reserved the right to do that to her evidently.

He must have sent the orders for them to fire their blasters into the columns of their home, Hometree, and then the Na'vi had scattered like the roaches Megatron would later say that they were. Poisoned, typically-lethal arrows hit the metal of the Decepticon warships, probably not even making a scratch on the invincible bearers of chaos - she knew what it felt like to be so defenceless. Only by the mercy of Mo'at was she released, but not before she had heard the begs of the clan mother herself.

"If you are one of us," the healer had implored, " _help_ us." Even as numb as she was, whenever she remembered those words they sent shivers of agony up her spine. Mo'at knew how "important" she was to their aggressor and had been urging her to use her supposed "influence." Little did that woman know that she was not a beloved Queen, but a toy used for Megatron's amusement and arousal. Why else had he kept her so small that she could fit in a single palm?

If her cost suddenly became more than the benefit of keeping her around, he could clench his fist once and it would be over. She knew what those massive servos could do to her, how much he had to hold himself back to keep from seriously fracturing her insignificant metal body. That strong glossa could strangle her too, or that spike split her like a rotten piece of fruit. Every part of him was deadly to her well-being.

Not that she had cared at that point. Maybe, when she inevitably met one of Megatron's Phase Sixers, she would ask them to crush her. She couldn't do this anymore.

Eleaniris had gone to a place darker than she had previously thought possible when she saw the massive Hometree creak under the assault of the Decepticon cruisers. The branches swayed as if the tree was fighting to keep itself up, the leaves making such a racket that she could hear it as clearly as an air raid siren despite the ruckus around her.

When the creaks got louder she had started running, feeling like the coward she was. Neytiri was standing, petrified, watching as her tribe's home of thousands of years started to tilt and fall. As she reached to grab the woman's arm, she saw the look in the yellow eyes that she had held in her own so long ago. In Neytiri's eyes, she saw two versions of herself: one an emotional reflection from the past, and the other a literal one from the present. How different she was in both, though this time she was an attacker herself - the berthtoy of the colossal Emperor of Destruction serving her Master's will as though she had no mind of her own.

But did she anymore? She contemplated her whole purpose when she ran with Neytiri, trying to ignore the cries from behind them as the tree hit the ground. Dozens of people's lives, ended in one fell swoop, children and adults alike letting loose one last cry of desperation and panic before they were crushed by the debris of their own home.

In that instant she had looked from the destruction, the raging fire and the destroyed home, the wailing Na'vi, to the once-again victorious Decepticon ships and to the mothership that held that brutish Megatron.

Why wasn't she surprised? The Decepticons killed children every day. It didn't matter to them how old - all they saw was vermin, inferior species meant to serve or perish. She quivered in the realisation that he may be unstoppable; he had already gone this far, toppling Empires like a toddler would stacks of blocks. It was easy and natural for him. Her numbness lessened the pain as Neytiri pushed her away upon finding her dying father, yelling through the tears for her to never come back.

 _You good-for-nothing bitch,_ she had demeaned herself, wandering aimlessly through the gray piles of ash that had once been a lush, green forest.  _You thought you could do something to_ _ **help**_ _?_

 _Go back to sucking Megatron's spike. That's the only real use for that mouth of yours, you stupid, dirty, transfluid-stained_ _**whore** _ _._

Eleaniris made herself cry like that - no longer was it Megatron pulling her apart with mental abuse, but her own mind too had joined in, biting into itself as she stumbled through the destruction that she had inflicted upon this world.

Her holoform collapsed, a sign that her Master was calling her back to her wretched metal frame. Trapped in metal once again she awoke, sitting in the medbay where her frame was always kept as she used her holoform below. Megatron murmured with approval and a gentle, reassuring smile, "They were insignificant Eleaniris. The failure is  _theirs_ , not yours, precious flower petal." The nickname didn't even affect her anymore.

He had cuddled her close until he was back on the bridge, making a final push against the Na'vi when Shockwave had reported even greater ununtrium and unobtanium ore deposits beneath, of course, the Tree of Souls. Megatron didn't even bat an eye at her protest.

 _ **All**_   _of this is your fault,_ she had shamed herself.

The Na'vi, angered by the attack on their home and wanting to protect what little they had left, fought valiantly against their world's aggressors. None of the mechs were allowed to leave the ships for hand-to-hand combat, despite how they whined. Megatron deemed them to be unworthy of their attention.

"Even the humans," he had said in English, "were fiercer than this." Her mind didn't even reel from the brutal slap - she had endured many like it before.

_All of this is your fault._

She watched the brave Tsu'tey fall to the forest below, another victim to the onslaught of Decepticon laser bolts. Arrows ticked heavily against the panes, not even inflicting the slightest marks on the Cybertronian glass of the bridge. She flinched at every sound, eventually shuttering her optics when it became too much.

In the end, Pandora was mined for every last ounce of its metal. In the end, the forest was gone and anything living was dead, the worthless, stripped dirt all that remained from the brutal, infamous Decepticon harvest. In the end, the captured Na'vi were split up for transport to other inhabited worlds to be used as slaves.

 _ **All**_   _of this,_ the voice in her helm grew louder than a furious ghost,  _is_ _ **your**_   _fault!_

* * *

Human pets did not receive clothes. Eleaniris learned quickly to spot prospective mates from pets - the mates wore the skimpy, bikini-style skirts and brassieres that she did. The naked humans only wore collars, fashioned out of whatever luxury a mech could afford to show off their wealth. The mates wore decadent jewels on delicate bracelets wrapped around necks, wrists, and ankles. But the nudity of the pets was not the worst part.

Now a century had passed, and much had changed. Gone were the humans that remembered what it was to be free - gone were those that knew what it was like to be out from under Decepticon heel.

Humans were often custom-bred as mates or pets, depending on the wishes of the mech ordering them. Sometimes human pets were kept as company for the mates, who would keep them on a sleek chain as if they were a species other than their own. She wished that Megatron could make up his mind already - were humans animals, or were they equal enough to be considered "mateable material?"

Or was this some sort of twisted  _Animal Farm_  logic, whereby some humans were  _more equal_  than others?

The philosophy was quickly scrapped, though, when she would witness how often the selected mates would yank around the human pets, would be so callous as to hit them or pull on their chains. She did not see them outside of the stands of the arena, or else she might have lost her mind faster.

She was losing her mind, but slowly thanks to her isolation in Megatron's palace. She hoped that there were humans that remembered, that she was not crazy when she saw those looks and whispers among those selected as human pets. It appeared to be recognition, but she was never close enough to tell.

Maybe the stories of a free Earth lived on.

That wisp of hope was enough to get her to hang on, even if just for a little while longer.

* * *

The Infiltration of the Klingon Empire was finally complete.

Megatron had sent out the freshly-built ships bearing the Empire's best infiltrators shortly after finishing the content of his Infiltration Protocol. The details were not explained, but she would have been surprised if Megatron had bothered to get in the weeds with his fragtoy about the business of his Empire.

It sure as hell was not  _her_  Empire, or  _their_  Empire. Megatron didn't have a tendency to share - with the exception of Energon and the berth, that is. He never seemed to tire of having her drink from his glass or even his  _mouth_ ; sleep pinned on his expansive, powerful abdomen when he wasn't brutally fragging her. If it weren't for her situation, she might have been giddy to see that a race of fiction did in fact exist. But given her position it was dull and colorless, just like the rest of her increasingly hard life.

She was surrounded by luxury wherever she went, doted upon servo and ped, but she was as poor in spirit as she was wealthy in body. Megatron did an excellent job of keeping his doll cleaned, polished, fueled and healthy, but he did not mind her stuffing.

For little by little, she was losing it.

After his Decepticons had trashed the once-opulent palace like the thugs they were during their debauchery and partying, Megatron had retreated with her to the one place he had denied his mechs entrance.

The royal bedroom. More specifically, the alien berth covered in sheets softer and thinner than she thought possible. The bed was perfectly made from what she could discern, neatly decorated with alien furs and skins that betrayed the warrior empire. Pillows were firm yet malleable, as she found when Megatron playfully shoved her into the pile of silky materials.

He ruined all of it with his claws and their fluids when he "made love" to her that night in the special berth of the Klingon Emperor. To the victor went the spoils, as they say - it was Megatron's berth now to do with as he pleased, even ruin if he saw fit.

By the end it was nothing more than a sticky, slimy, shredded pile of exotic, costly fiber. It was impossible to tell what had been what, though it didn't help that her valve throbbed like wounded bird from her night with the triumphant Emperor. She couldn't even move, her chin held flat on the bed as Megatron recharged soundly on top of her.

He didn't ever seem to get lighter and she never grew accustomed to his weight as he said she would. Instead, every time he decided to sleep on her he got heavier, weighing down her soul as he forced her to contemplate her powerlessness. More than once she had tried to throw him, but he was far too big and far too strong even in his shrunken form. Hence she was forced to bear the mass of the recharging Emperor, his spike still buried deeply within her valve and lodged beyond her cervix. Every time he would shift it would expel more of his fluid into her already-crammed valve, sloshing heavily what lay inside of her chamber.

Nights like these she could never recharge, submerged in her own mess and beneath the source of her pain.

He was online before she realised it and chuckled, sitting back on his haunches and pulling her up with him to sit in his lap, encircled in his arms. "What did you think of my birthday gift, precious?" His spike sank deeper into her, yet more transfluid joining the lots he had expelled last night. She had forgotten that it was her birthday.

"I don't understand." Eleaniris said that often now.

Megatron pulled her off of him and swiftly turned her small body around so that she could face him, also allowing her to see the Klingon woman standing in the doorway, her forehead wrapped with a dirty bandage. With that he stood, carrying her and forcing her to wrap his legs around him. He was frowning when he walked to the massive, currently offline screen. "I must have forgotten to mention it, my dear," he murmured affectionately, a big servo gliding down her back in a caress.

She didn't reply, transfixed with seeing the woman again. The Empress, if she recalled her correctly, was standing like the warrior she had probably been trained to be. Even without the tattooed crown (which she had removed to correspond with the tradition of defeat), even without her Empire, she behaved like a Queen. No remorse reached those alien eyes, no sense of vanquishment in her stance.

If only that woman knew what was bound and determined to happen to her people - if that would even matter to her. Eleaniris didn't know how these Klingons would compare to the fictional counterparts.

"Practice your Klingon, flower." He smirked and petted her back again, " _ **Qo'noS is the name of this planet."**_

She replied back, " _ **I knew that."**_ _Why the sudden change to Klingon?_

His smirk had grown wider and a chuckle shook her briefly as he waved a servo, onlining the screen. " _ **For your birthday, my Queen, I give all of this,"**_ he gesticulated broadly to the city and the sun slowly rising on the horizon, " _ **to you. A little present for my wonderful mate."**_

 _Oh, so_ _ **that's**_   _what this was supposed to be?_  She had thought, angry that he dared to mock her like this. He not only decided to soil the birthday tradition, but had decided to give her a destroyed planet all but wrecked by his Phase Sixers. Was her current miserable state not enough for him? What  _more_  could he  _want_  from her? Then she looked over his shoulder back at the Empress and realised that it could always be worse. She knew why Megatron switched to Klingon - the horrible  _monster_.

Absent was the hardened warrior look, replaced with the advent of sadness.  _She lost everything - her husband, her position, her people, her wealth, and now has found out that her planet, the seat of her once powerful Empire, was intended to be a trinket for the_ _ **pet**_   _of her conqueror. Is there_ _ **any**_   _greater insult?_

Megatron followed her gaze and guffawed, " _ **Ah. Your new servant. I have been meaning to replace Grace."**_ He paused as if he was trying to recall something, " _ **What was your name?"**_

Offence glimmered in her brown eyes for a moment, chin tilting downwards in shame.  _Her conqueror doesn't even know the name of his opposition._

_How cruel to tell her in her own language, too._

" _ **I am called D'serisi**_." Her pride was still there and though Eleaniris admired it, she couldn't help but think cynically  _Let's see how long_ _ **that**_   _lasts._

" _ **No matter**_ ," Megatron said dismissively, not listening to the Empress-turned-handmaid. His spike slipped out of her when set her down gently and kissed her lips, his glossa sloppily licking at hers briefly, before breaking it with a possessive, content growl. Not bothering to cover himself, Megatron put an incessant servo on her back and guided her over to D'serisi. On the way he snatched up a torn piece of cloth and wiped his spike, roughly concealing it and discarding the once-priceless fabric turned rag.

" _ **Clean my mate**_." He ordered sternly before purring at her, "I will see you later, Queen of Qo'noS." His red optics flashed wantonly as he took in her naked frame once more and commenced leaving the suite.

" _ **Mistress**_." The Empress saluted her and dipped her head respectfully, " _ **I shall serve you faithfully."**_ How had her life become  _this_  screwed  _up_?

One bath and one solemn conversation later, and she was wandering the trashed halls again searching for Megatron. For her own safety she had asked D'serisi to remain in the ruined berthroom. It was safer than the halls of the palace, though it was filthy. There probably wasn't a single surface in the royal apartment Megatron hadn't taken her on the night prior. His endurance, for all of his cruelty, was something to be admired. She didn't understand how he remained so interested in his simple slave.

The halls were large enough that Megatron could walk upright in them in his normal size, so she couldn't possibly miss him. But was she actually looking for  _him_ , or looking to  _distract_  herself?

 _I don't need him,_ she swore.  _His protection is not something I want._

Until she heard and felt the clamour of something turning the corner. A massive frame she had only ever seen on Megatron's datapads stopped in front of her and grinned down at her, dropping the Klingon in its servo while the other held something firmly. The guard hit the floor head-first, the sound wet and squelching.

"What have we here," Overlord murmured loudly, oversized lips smirking down at her in a grin. In a single stride he closed the distance and curled a servo larger than Megatron's around her frame. He straightened far too fast and when she was able to refocus, she saw the frightened femme in the other servo. "You haven't met the Empress, have you Willow?"

Willow shook her helm, green optics wary of Overlord as she was enclosed in the planet-killer's fist. "N-no."

"Hmm." Overlord hummed, opening his servo and pinning the femme's belly with a massive thumb. Eleaniris was still too shocked to notice that Willow was missing her interface panel, showing a scarred valve. "Maybe she can show you how obedient a Submissive is supposed to be for their Dominant." His words were laced with malice and a threat that made Willow cringe and start shaking.

"Why do you always do that?" Overlord growled, clearly exasperated, "I always tell you to  **stop** your  **quivering,** yet you never listen."

"Iamsorrymaster," she blurted, managing to still her frame. "Iamaverybadfemme."

A fleeting thought of guilt crossed her mind, only to be quickly dismissed. Was this how all mates among the Decepticons were treated? Did they not have examples, namely from the leader that had brought them to victory, that would result in success? If she and Megatron had  _somehow_ ,  _ **someway**_ , turned out happy and mechs had seen that, would how they treat their mates now be better? Now they undoubtedly assumed that humans were naturally skittish and always fearful, since they saw Megatron's Queen (who was no doubt pampered) constantly afraid. Since they had no examples that showed them otherwise, the Decepticons didn't even try to make their mates happy and less fearful of them - with notable exceptions.

" _Soon a choice will have to be made that affects not only the enslavement of your people, but of others as well."_ Was there no limit to the extent that her destiny influenced others' destinies?

Of course, Overlord was no doubt a brute regardless.

"A  _vorn_  and you still cannot relax." He shook his great helm and mused thoughtfully, "perhaps I would be better off with a different mate." With that the giant started to squeeze her between his thumb and fingers, eliciting cries of pain and begs for mercy as ear-splitting cracks tore from her frame.

"I'll be good!" Willow sobbed, small servos scrabbling at the thumb threatening to squish her, "Please!" Those green optics were wide with terror, but she did not act as if this had not happened before.

Eleaniris could only watch through large optics as Overlord backed off, thumb stroking dented metal as she gasped and heaved. "There's my good girl," the colossus purred, lifting her to his face. Willow's servos shot out in a conditioned response, petting the massive cheek rims with her fingertips until Overlord brought her closer, when she buried her lip components in his. He thrummed in response and parted them, thick and enormous glossa coming out to lap at her face in approval. "Thank you master," she cried out and leaned against the fingers at her back, tilting her helm upwards to offer her neck.

"Not so fast," he laughed, plunking her on one expansive shoulder. "The Empress will show you some tricks, right little Queen?" She heard the telltale sound of a codpiece releasing its locks and she gulped, locking her gaze with the cruel red optics above her.

"Show her how you service Megatron," he purred, a threat in the quick squeeze that made her vents stall.

Eleaniris would remember that day as the day she finally broke.

* * *

That was the last campaign Megatron took her out on.

Afterwards he held that it was too dangerous and stressful for a femme who was trying to bear offspring - he made no mention of how he had rescued her when she was in the middle of servicing another mech. She was instead to remain locked away in their silver palace, awaiting his return.

He thought that she was safe but she wasn't. Not even Wilson could fight off the squad of hungry drones that would come searching for her in the gardens. She was lucky that they wouldn't dare or couldn't really hurt her.

The fists wouldn't rip her, not after how Megatron had stretched her to accommodate his length.

He was never gone long due to the space bridges built and fueled from stolen resources, and he never came back empty handed. Soundwave had said that Megatron had started to demand tribute from the trembling peoples he defeated, for what purpose she hadn't known.

From then on, however, her gifts were always greater in size. He brought her more jewels than she knew what to do with, more exotic tapestries and cloth than she could possibly hang or wear; more stolen resources from someone's home. Megatron would look into her optics, searching for something akin to approval. He was like a cat looking for praise for a dead bird. He was always so eager and he was always disappointed in her lack of a reaction, for she would merely look at the gifts and then drop her gaze elsewhere to convey her sadness. She didn't want loot, especially from species that couldn't defend themselves.

He had begged for her to smile at him, speak to him, or make even the tiniest of sounds, but she could not muster the will to trill her vocaliser in the slightest. It was dead in her throat.

"Why don't you speak to me anymore," he had murmured with concern in his optics, a careful claw under her chin forcing her to look into them. "Just make a sound, precious. Talk, scream, cry, please do  _something_  for me."

He had even sounded worried about her.

 _Like Starscream said, no one wants to play with a broken toy._ So she had stayed silent. If she feigned brokenness maybe the pain would go away. Maybe he could leave her alone to deteriorate in peace, throw her away and dispose of her.

Smelt her. Surely now she was worth more as scrap metal?

But he didn't have the mercy to leave her to rot away in her apartments. In fact, his contact with her  _increased_  instead of dwindled.

Which led to her presence here at the premier night and strip club Esquire, seated on the table in front of Megatron's torso. He held a piece of Scraper Beetle off of his crystal plate for her but she turned her faceplates away in refusal, inadvertently looking at the center stage beyond the diamond strands that curtained the raised VIP table and space from the rest of the masses.

She didn't know where or how or  _why_  the characteristically shy and proper Grace had learned to pole dance, but she wasn't bad at it.

The Emperor followed her intrigued gaze, bending to speak to her over the music, "Do you wish to learn, precious? I can arrange anything for my  _special_   _Queen_." His glossa flicked over her audio fin as if to accentuate his affection, though the possessiveness of the action dripped just as his lubricant did.

"I only wish for your happiness, little one." He did sound so very desperate, but she merely shook her helm. She would never move that lewdly for  _him_  or for  _any_  of the officers and filthy rich below. Maybe Grace did because she loved Soundwave and was truly performing for him, but Eleaniris far from loved Megatron. After what he had done to her race and countless others, he was irredeemable.

For the mateable pool had increased beyond the humans. In fact, various members of the Decepticon High Command sat at their private table with cyberformed female Twi'leks, Na'vi, and Klingons among those in their laps, on the table, or perched on their shoulders. Perhaps one looked happy. The rest watched her with concern - Megatron and their mechs had left them alone often enough that they knew of her internal anguish.

But she didn't want their pity. She just wanted…

 _What do I want?_  she wondered as Megatron ate the Scraper Beetle in his claws and continued with his meal. His dessert was interesting, a pile of dead beetles drizzled with mercury and some kind of rare minerals sprinkled over the top. Probably goods from a world-rape. Megatron always got the best for himself, didn't he? So much for the "equality" he had claimed to fight for.

_What do I want?_

Eleaniris wanted him to go away, for her people to be  _people_  again, for the countless slaves of countless races to go free. She desired for the universe to be out from under Decepticon heel, though he hadn't conquered it yet per se. She was positive, however, that it would eventually fall to him. As President of the United States she might have scoffed at the idea of universal domination, deemed it impossible and said that he had delusions of grandeur. Now though, the Slave Queen dared not hope for the failure of the Decepticons - she might as well start wishing for the sky to fall, for that would happen sooner.

_What do I want?_

In short, the common similarity among all of her wishes was an end to pain: the endless throbbing of her spark, the endless need to cry though there were no more tears to give, the endless disgust she experienced when she watched Megatron feast while others they had passed in the street were starving - the fucking  _bastard_  had even dared to claim, in the face of hunger riots, that "all had sacrificed" to build the Empire and secure Earth as their home.

But as she looked to all of these officers, to every Decepticon bigwig she had ever seen, to  _Megatron,_ they didn't look like they had given up  _shit_  to get what they wanted. Earth had been a sitting duck for invasion, as had most of the planets he had infiltrated or planned to infiltrate. They were not the ones who had thrown their lives on the line, knew what it felt like to see their own kind enslaved, or experienced the agony of giving oneself away for  _nothing_  whatsoever. Instead she looked to the mated humans, to the demoralised Na'vi, to the routed Klingons, to the enslaved Twi'leks, and countless others to see the definition of agony and pain.

To see loss and sacrifice.

Megatron continued to purr above her, devouring eagerly what was no doubt a tasting delicacy. He passed his glossa over the back of her helm _,_  rumbling at the stolen taste _. What do I want?_

The Supreme Commander plucked her up into a flat palm, prodding her to lie flat on her back. She went limp and flat for the dominant mech, not bothering to fight him.  _ **NEVER**_  had fighting him gotten her  _anywhere_.

_What do I want?_

He poured out of the saucer whatever remained of the dessert right over her body, sticky mercury dressing seeping over her frame in a mess that attached the Scraper Beetles to her as if it were sap. Red optics gleamed at her and a glossa swiped over hungry lips.

_What do I want?_

The Decepticon Emperor held her before his maw, tongue dripping drool coming out to lap the dishevelled treat off of her, using her, his thoroughly routed and raped pet Queen, as a living plate off of which to feast. She didn't bother with flinching, empty gaze staring at the dangerous fangs within her reach.

_What do I want?_

_I want it to end._

Like Aurora pricking her finger on the spindle of the accursed spinning wheel, Eleaniris reached out in a trance, wrist up and servo clenched, to quickly impale the centre of her wrist on deadly denta.

Emotional suffering had put her through constant physical pain, namely the suffocating tightness that came with Broken Heart Syndrome and the gut-wrenching nightmares of PTSD. But this was nothing compared to that. A true grain of sand.

The light pink Energon looked so pretty coming from her broken line, flowing freely as if she were draining all of her agony out through her veins. Megatron, however, must have noticed the taste of Energon if not the frail wrist stuck on one of his fangs. His optics widened and she whimpered in protest as he forcefully removed her arm from his mouth before she could cut herself further.

"Oh, sweetspark," he gasped, mortified when he saw the decent-sized hole through the middle of her right wrist. "What-" Megatron shook himself, quickly going through the diamond curtains and out to the crowd, which parted for the Emperor of Destruction and his bleeding mate.

Eleaniris couldn't even comprehend what she had done; she was still too deep in her trance to think about how she had tried to commit suicide.

Or, more specifically, how she had failed.

Startled whispers came from the vocalisers of the few who saw before Megatron covered her with a servo, cupping her against his chassis. "Shhhh, precious. It'll be okay. You're going to be fine," he whispered frantically so that only she might hear.

Eleaniris was not so far under from Energon loss that she didn't scorn his words with a snort only she could hear in the loud nightclub.

_Nothing will ever be fine again._

* * *

That was not the only attempt she made on her own life.

The following weeks were filled with visits to the medbay in which Knockout would tsk to himself, shake his helm sadly, and quickly return to work on whatever she had done to herself this time. She had tried everything she could think of, even stuffing down Nuke from Tarn's stores in his quarters in the palace - all Knockout had done was put her out, drain the tainted Energon, and put new fuel in her. Megatron wouldn't just let her  _die_  already.

With a mouthgag stuck in her jaws, forcing them wide while Knockout numbed relays through her medical port so that her throat - intake - would be relaxed, she was forced to refuel. Megatron himself poured the essence of Cybertronian life into her, cooing and petting her helm as cube after cube was taken into her tanks. Her tears never trekked far, for a Decepticon claw would stroke them away and murmur empty promises.

When she was finally done, the mouthgag was removed but Megatron still stayed, holding her though she didn't wish to be held. She only wanted to go to sleep and never reawaken.

Just because she was alive didn't mean that she wasn't dead.

He kept promising that whatever she wanted she would receive, but she could barely contain her twisted, broken laughter. She never got her wings, as he had promised so long ago. Her people were never freed. He was not to be trusted, for the only agreement he kept was with his Decepticons, to destroy and conquer and raid those worlds that could not stand a chance against his military of living, technological beasts.

She stayed still, optics empty and spark dead, as he kissed the top of her helm gently and continued to rock her, whispering his false reassurances into her audio with desperation and sadness. Nearby Sophia watched but shook her helm sadly, going back to the chirping, happy sparkling in her lap.

* * *

Eleaniris, Queen of the Decepticons.

A title she hated hearing, though she was the mostly-ignored bitch of the Decepticon tyrant and hardly ever heard those words pass between the lips of anyone other than Megatron, or drones trying to mock her.

Now, however, the drones were not scorning her. They were pleading for their lives.

The outlandish cushion beneath her, covered in blankets and pillows of all sizes, was far more yielding than she would ever be. Her faceplates were hard when she looked out at them, unforgiving, which made them cry out all the louder. She didn't hate them for what they had done to her, necessarily, but she always leapt at every opportunity to watch a Decepticon die.

Painfully.

The suspense made her internally grin with cruelty, as Megatron watched her from above to see what her "decision" was, as if he wouldn't do as he pleased anyway. A barbaric, devious smirk lit up her faceplates as she nodded darkly, not even looking at the tyrant whose titanic legs she was sitting between.

After going so long without any acknowledgment or communication from his morose Queen, he was only eager to please. The Decepticon overlord didn't need to be asked twice to punish those who had dared to rape what was  _his_.

The spikes went first, followed by their servos, pink Energon staining the floor. When he pulled off the last helm with a vicious snap, Energon droplets flecked her grinning face. The body was thrown to the floor and the mech came back up the steps, picking her up and licking the lifeblood of his former servants off of her faceplants while his purrs shook her body like an earthquake.

Wilson stood to the side, this type of cruelty the norm. He couldn't say that he disagreed with the Empress over her glee, but he would never have thought that she would smile.

A sign that it was, he supposed, the beginning of the end.

* * *

" _Why must she remain so…"_  Megatron paused, looking at the now-century old painting of Eleaniris on the beach, still hanging on his wall. " _Unhappy?"_

_She shivered and frowned when she saw that._

" _What is it that she is not being provided?"_  Although the warlord was thinking out loud, Soundwave and Knockout didn't dare miss the threatening, frustrated undertones. A frustrated Megatron was known to be a destructive, and often deadly, one.

Soundwave was at the "end of his rope," as his Grace would say. He had the suspicion that he knew the real reason for Eleaniris' miserable self, but would never voice something so treasonous to his leader. The system was too established, at this point, to remove. Grace was far from happy with it as well, hence her repeated denial to the twins' requests for a human pet. He suspected that future sparklings would ask as well, much to the displeasure of his formerly-human mate.

If they ever had any. They hadn't dared try to build because of Eleaniris' many miscarriages and Megatron's temper - no one received anything before the warlord had his share. It was better to wait on the "children," as much as his symbiotes hassled him about wanting "little Graces." They adored his mate, especially Rumble and Frenzy. He had never seen those two so  _protective_ and  _loving_  of anything.

Knockout too had an inkling that he dared not voice. Sophia had turned up her nose at his offer every time, understandably because of her heritage, though she had thinly masked it with the sparkling's "well-being."

But what was it that they could say? It wasn't as if Eleaniris was neglected -

Oh, but he could spin it that way. " _Perhaps she is lonely, my liege."_

Megatron's optics flared with offense, his cannon charging at what he saw as a challenging remark. Even seated he towered over them, the gladiator's shoulders rising with anger. " _ **What?**_ "

Knockout gulped gently. " _Femmes are not compatible with frequent absences of their mates."_

He wasn't following. The hulking mass of the galaxy-conqueror rose from his seat, optics narrowed with fury. " _You imply that I_ _ **neglect**_   _her?"_ His spark broke at the thought - he would never be so cold as to lock her in a cage, beat her, starve her, or rape her. He could never do anything horrible to a small, tiny, helpless being whose cuteness and beauty made him melt.

Both glanced at each other, Soundwave not moving to reply. Knockout was in this mess alone, it seemed.

" _Isn't she left alone while you are out on campaign?"_

Megatron growled in the affirmative, dark shadow of his frame leaning over the massive desk towards him. Eleaniris' misery constantly flowing over their spark bond was wearing his patience thinner and thinner, making the warlord more easily irritable than he had been since the low-point of the war.

" _Her guard remains with her, as do her pets."_

" _But not you."_ Knockout argued, knowing that every bit of what he was saying was a lie. Ever since Sophia had told him, after Eleaniris' third visit to the medbay for another failed suicide attempt, that the source of her pain was Megatron himself all of her pain had clicked into place. She thought of herself as a leader who owed a debt to her people.

A debt Megatron kept her from repaying.

She blamed herself for something that was never her fault but that she thought was hers. Megatron had invaded and enslaved on her watch, making it her responsibility. But instead of killing her like he had everyone else he had kept her, the sole remaining leader of Earth's shattered government, as his Queen. He couldn't imagine the darkness in the helm of one who believed that they were a trinket, a keepsake, a memento for what their conqueror had done to Earth.

He might have been a gossip and narcissist, but he was not stupid. What else could have driven her to try to offline herself so many times?

Megatron remained still, his faceplates going lax in realisation after a few moments of thought. Slowly he sat back in his chair, his optics unfocused and blank. The tension in the air evaporated.

" _My little one misses me."_ He thrummed, mostly to himself, in amazement. Knockout's gut, despite years of being hardened by the Decepticons, sank at the thought of what he had just done to the suffering once-President. " _She_ _ **misses**_   _me, and all those times she hurt herself..."_

" _She was only trying to get my attention."_

" _She is angry and unresponsive because she knows that you will leave again."_ Knockout added with a wince he carefully hid. There was low for a Decepticon, and then there was what he was doing. He had never seen something in so much misery, and what did he do? Add to it.

" _Yes,"_ Megatron murmured thoughtfully, his chin held by a thumb and forefinger. " _This must be why she hates me."_ Knockout and Soundwave, seeing that the beast's anger had dissipated, relaxed the tension in their frames.

_Oh sweetspark. Why didn't you say anything? You need someone to keep you company. My poor, lonesome little sweetling. No wonder your songs are woeful._

* * *

" She is lonely," Megatron growled to the deathly still occupant of his cabin. He had only ever held Eleaniris in there, and now he remembered why. It didn't matter that she was from the highest-end pet shops in Eleanicon, for she was still a runt. But wasn't that why he had bought her?

"You are to provide her with company, make sure that she is not unhappy with how I treat her." Scared eyes watched him, unmoving yet still glowing with a fire that the Decepticon Lord missed seeing in his mate.

"You are replaceable," He warned after a pause, "remember that." It was a threat to be successful, for her life depended on it. Megatron was too desperate to tolerate failure.

* * *

"Sweetling," he called, opening the door hesitantly to his Queen's apartment/nest. "I have a surprise for you."

There was a shuffle from the chase lounge and Eleaniris stood, slightly hunched over, white optics empty as she regarded him and handed her blanket to D'serisi. His spark wrenched at the cold coming from hers. It wasn't new, and that only served to make the pain worse.

"Her name is Ava." Eleaniris cocked her helm and he stepped away to reveal his gift, watching her with expectation. The cost of the human female was nothing in comparison to his wealth, but he did want this to finally be the cure to her angst. He had stopped interfacing with her due to her depression for it had started to feel more like rape than lovemaking.

Primus, he might never be able to forget the helpless, despairing quality of her cries the last time he had interfaced with her.

Megatron, needless to say, wanted to go back to making sparklings with her. He missed the Eleaniris that would gladly lie on his berth and beg for him to take her harder, smile and laugh as they talked.

He hated the one-sided conversations, the limpness of her frame, the emptiness of those optics...

While he waited with anticipation and lust, Eleaniris was caught on how to react to the human she was being gifted. The human slave with the naked body, proud brown eyes, and long, shamefully tangled black hair. She was barely a teenager from the apparent lack of aging on her body.

This human pet was merely a child of a sentient race, told and conditioned to behave like an animal.

Black diamonds integrated with purple ni'cartites - the rarest gemstone known to the Decepticons to date - formed the thick collar/necklace that wrapped around her collarbone, the only garment that she wore beside the additional ownership cuff on an ankle.  _Ava,_ it read in Cybertronian characters,  _property of High Empress Eleaniris._

She lost it, but not in the way that she expected.

Roaring, choked laughter emitted from her spasming vocaliser, coolant trekking down her cheeks from her optics as she bent forward with the strength of her hacking. The proof of her defeat had been handed to her on a silver platter, the evidence of her for-naught sale of her body and soul, and she didn't have the strength to scream and cry anymore. All that remained was bizarre laughter that left Wilson in the corner concerned, D'serisi unsettled, Ava confused and angry, and Megatron…

Satisfied. The mech truly saw only that which he  _wished_  to see.

His Empress, in his mind, was finally back to her former self. He had missed her for the past vorn or so, and now she was happy again. He smiled back and walked to her, arms outstretched as he dragged the forgotten pet behind him, making her gag and scramble after him.

He gathered her into his arms, smiling as he nuzzled her faceplants and licked the coolant away with long laps of his glossa. Purring contentedly as his Queen kept laughing he squeezed her aft to test her. She only laughed harder, throwing her helm back at his caress.

The sight had him drooling in his pent-up lust, but he could clang his sexy Queen later. She probably wanted to get familiar with her new pet.

Eleaniris' laughter died a little as he set her down and kissed her forehelm gently. "I will leave you for now," he purred, kissing her again in the same spot, "Enjoy your pet."

He pushed the leash into her palm and planted a kiss on her servo, taking his time with soaking up his Empress' joy. It had been so  _long_  since he had seen it.

Maybe he could start taking her to fights again, since she wasn't angry like she had been when she used to ignore his tribute fights. She would actually watch now, it seemed, since her unhappiness at his frequent absences was gone.

He dropped her servo and smiled, going back to the door and ignoring the human that skittered out of his way. He had brought her a runt with a lanky frame so that she wouldn't be lonely but also so that she had something to care for.

Once, years ago, he had returned to find that his Empress had somewhere found an improperly discarded human sparkling. She had cuddled it and cooed to it in an adorable way, but he had found it excessively distasteful. His mate should only do that to  _their_  sparklings, not the disgusting, filthy, reject spawn of a  _human_.

One night, while she recharged with the baby swaddled against her chassis, he had taken it himself for the drones to dispose of. Angry that his Queen had liked the baby and the baby had liked her, yet also furious that they had yet to birth a youngling, he had gone back to recharge in his own berth.

Eleaniris had panicked the next morning, so badly that he had to confine her in a fist to take her down to Knockout's for a tranquilizer. Distraught that she couldn't find " _her_ " baby, his mate had thrashed until he was forced to end it for her and tell her that it wasn't " _her"_  child at all. His Queen had fallen silent, optics wide before narrowing at him, and curled up into an unresponsive ball. She already wasn't speaking to him at that point but she had also increased her suicide attempts.

Maybe now that she had a runt to care for and nurture she would be more happy. That was all he wanted, after all. A comm. from Thundercracker about their next plan of conquest, a cluster of galaxies that lay beyond their massive holdings of twenty-two, distracted him from his Empress.

Once the door closed Eleaniris collapsed, D'serisi rushing to assist her mistress. "Eleaniris, what has happened?" The Klingon woman had picked up English rather quickly once Eleaniris had taught her - the Empress had nothing else to do, for Megatron appeared to consider her only duty to be that of a concubine.

Wilson gently picked her up, bridal style, and laid her on the chaise lounge. They waited anxiously for her to speak and had to for several minutes, tension building from the three of them. Ava shifted nervously in the quiet, unsure of herself and eyeing the mysterious animal in the corner. Unaware of the recording device imbedded in her collar - a precaution mandated by Megatron's government to keep slave rebellion at bay - she asked quietly "Mistress?"

It was then that the Queen spoke, a sad laugh escaping her, "There are no titles among slaves, Ava. 'Mistress,' 'Empress,' 'Queen,' and 'my lady' have no meaning here."  _And surely not Madame President._

"Call me Eleaniris." The Empress sat up, D'serisi and Wilson rushing to steady her though she shooed them away. "I can handle myself, thank you."

She shook her helm and tsked, as if she was remembering something. Standing she gestured hurriedly to Ava, sympathy in her optics. Never had the human seen  _robotic_  eyes that regarded her as a living, sentient being, and she was too shocked to be grateful.

"Come, sweetheart, and we can get you cleaned up. I'm sure that you are hungry as well."

* * *

It was nothing compared to what she had been expecting. The bathrooms at the breeding facility she had been born and raised in were nothing compared to  _this_ .

A waterfall ran down every marble-covered wall, making pleasant pattering sounds when it hit the water in the trenches in the floor. In the wall opposite the entryway was a break in the waterfalls and a pathway across the trenches to a cabinet lined space, where she glimpsed bottles of all shapes and colors and tall spaces with light-blue towels of numerous sizes stacked high in them.

In the middle, however, was the ornate, sunken bathtub. Eleaniris nodded for D'serisi to prepare the bath while she took Ava to the room opposite - while never touching her chain. The human glimpsed the white marble of the bathtub when the Klingon woman pushed aside the blue veils to access the controls.

It was impossible for her to decide which soap to use. Eleaniris had selected the most gentle of the cleaning solutions, since most were meant for tough metal skin, but the final choice was up to Ava. Eventually after much debate she settled on a purple bottle that read "Lavende."

"Lavender," Eleaniris nodded, something in those optics different. The woman acted as if she was being choked, but Ava tried not to mind it. Something wasn't right here, besides the obvious.

She was not a stupid girl, despite her upbringing. She knew the stories about the enslaved President and past of the human race. She had heard whisperings of the rebellion, despite the evidence that this supposedly bold woman had given up.

Even if the Queen had forgotten who she was, her people hadn't.

That was why she had tried, in the pet store, to get  _his_  attention. There wasn't a being alive that didn't know  _his_  voice,  _his_  face,  _his_  name. While everyone else had gone absolutely silent and still, trying to avoid his cold optics, she had stood and watched him. She dared to hold the gaze of the oppressor of her race and countless others when he stepped closer to inspect her.

Her parents had, as her grandparents had done for them and great-grandparents in turn, taught them that their soul was theirs so long as they fought for it. Even though she hadn't seen them for years - the Decepticons only allowed the pairs to raise a particular child for so long - she saw others that were so similar to them just often enough that she would remember. She would recall her father teaching her to keep her "claws unsheathed."

Just because they owned her in body did not mean that they would own her in spirit. The Decepticons thought that they would win, but they never could so long as someone fought because they chose to.

Her parents had always told her the stories of a free world where people wore things called "clothes" and weren't kept on chains. Humans didn't wear collars, but wore necklaces. Chose what they were going to do with their own lives and didn't rely on a Master's care.

Eleaniris gently guided her to the bath and Ava shook herself, recalling who was trying to bathe her. What had her parents called her?  _President_.

The water was warm, a luxury that she recalled being reserved for only the "chosen" girls - those destined to become mates. As a pet she only helped to groom them, and more often than not they were mean. The Queen helped her get into the deep tub, another perk for the "chosen," and picked up a crystal bowl to wet her hair. By the end she was clean and smelling of lavender, long locks shiny and combed.

Eleaniris had snarled at the long length of chain and pushed it back into her palms, Ava feeling confused about what to do with it. She hated being led around like the animals the Decepticons also kept as pets, but she was not accustomed to holding her own leash.

"You are hungry." Eleaniris said, metal hand tapping the counter behind her as she contemplated the fresh Ava. She nodded reverently, thankful for her kindness but also wondering what the initial reaction to her had meant. What was happening here? Obviously the Empress had no fight left, but there was something brewing in those optics.

Maybe she could renew the fire, just as her parents had done with her. Megatron had ordered that she keep the Empress company, and she could do just that as she was teaching the old human leader how to fight again.

Whisperings of rebellion were not uncommon. Perhaps the Empress could rejoin their fight as the stories said she had, so very long ago.

* * *

Eleaniris contemplated the human girl sitting across from her, all the while trying not to break into tears. The guard holding the both of them parted the crowd easily with the color of his cloak - none wanted to get into trouble with a enforcer, let alone a member of the Imperial Guard who carried the High Queen in his servo. In one palm he clutched the Empress and her new pet, and the other held a brightly-colored fan of peacock feathers over her to shade Megatron's mate from the sun.

"Tell me, Ava," she asked quietly, "what happens in the human camps? What atrocities are on the rise with Megatron's slave keepers?"

The bitterness made Ava's mind lurch in agreement but also caused her eyebrows to rise in surprise. She hadn't been expecting the passive Queen to become so… rebellious. In front of a  _guard_ , no less.

"They are the same as they have always been, my -" she caught herself "Eleaniris."

The Queen pursed her lips and nodded, "That is exactly what is wrong." She readjusted, sitting closer to Ava and lowering her voice, "I am going to teach you several things in the next days dear Ava, and I want you to listen carefully to each one of them. They will be vital."

At that moment their escort stepped into a white, brightly lit store lined with shelves down the sides and middle. A closer look and a craning of her neck told Ava that it was a clothing store - a privilege typically kept for the "chosen."

Wide eyes turned to Eleaniris as the guard set them down carefully on a countertop and the shopkeeper came rushing from the back, giddy that he had a member of the Royal Family present to buy his wares. "Yes." Eleaniris said sternly, making clear that there would be no argument, "you are going to get clothes."

Countless outfits later, during which she grew accustomed to the feel of fabric on her body, Ava stood beside a stack of clothing that reached her waist in height. By the quality of the cloth she could tell that they were not inexpensive pieces and they couldn't get any farther from the rough blankets she was used to sleeping beneath.

As a pet meant for the higher class she knew how to read - something about advanced comprehension of harder "party tricks" being garnered from it - and the small electronic squares attached to each cloth read amounts that she was ashamed to be asking for from the once-leader of the resistance. She could scarcely believe that she was an assistant - Eleaniris told her to call herself that, for no human should be forced to call themselves a pet - of such a legend as the Slave Queen of the Decepticons.

"You can't do this for me," she said boldly, making a stand as Eleaniris had shown her to. No longer did she have to fear for her life when she spoke with statements instead of questions.

"But I will. I want to." Eleaniris noticed the electronic tag in Ava's hand and her face remained cool and expressionless, "You are going to get those, Ava."

"But this is too-"

"He doesn't  _look_  at the bill," the Empress said in her strict tone, placing a venomous sneer on the pronoun, "he just  _pays_  it." It seemed that her so-called "mistress" was learning some fight again, after all.

The Queen stepped closer and crouched beside Ava, "You will see later why you will need these colors."

* * *

Since Megatron had brought her Ava, the Empress was caught between loving the girl, pitying the girl, or hating the girl.

In those fiery eyes Eleaniris saw her past self, when she had dared to stand up to Megatron so very long ago.

The body devoid of scars but bearing the markers of petdom sliced her heart open.

The symbolism of Megatron's "gift" drove her over the edge.

Any misgivings she had had about the world being worthy of her presence were gone. It was true that Ava had spirit, wanted to stand up and fight for humanity's freedom from Decepticon chains, but all Eleaniris could do was choke back a sob. The Decepticons would  _always_  win,  _always_  succeed in destroying something so beautiful as resistance against their evil.

Whereas the look in her eyes should have inspired hope for the future, all it planted were seeds of despair. The fight in her eyes, the inevitable outcome that waited for it every time, killed the last of her will.

Outwardly she was normal, but inside she had decayed. She was a walking zombie, teaching Ava how to live on her own, how to find the resistance that she had heard spoken of, how to feed it the secret of Megatron's possible Achilles' heel - there were none that she could discern, but perhaps they might succeed. Either way, Eleaniris was done. She was tired of living in despair, tired of having hope thrown in her face every waking moment of every dark day.

Distantly she had remembered something about the path to the Dark Side, whereby fear led to anger, anger led to hate, and hate led to suffering - at least she thought that was the order. Regardless she felt that she had, in that moment, culminated her journey to the infamous Dark Side that was not as fictional she wanted to believe.

"Ava, do you have your things?" The girl nodded, not sure of what Eleaniris was planning but was prepared nonetheless.

"Come here," Eleaniris gestured, picking up the cliper she had had Borealis steal away from downstairs. One snap and the collar fell to the floor, the thud making Eleaniris' soul breathe a rare breath of relief. Before she knew it Ava was ready.

"You will go with D'serisi then." She nodded to the Klingon woman, who guided her to the door and left, Eleaniris staring after them. She knew that they could find what was left of the rebellion. She knew it existed.

Every once in a while, before her windows were barred and the door to the balcony removed, some brave soul from a planet she had never heard of would come in to beg for the sparing of their people. So many had ended up dying by Megatron's servo if he was there when they arrived, but some she had helped escape back out of the palace after convincing them that she had no power over her mate.

The talking raccoon - Rocket - was a charmer, as were his squad of intergalactic travelers. She hoped he had found the resistance that they were looking for. Maybe Ava would get to meet him.

The thought made her smile, albeit briefly. She had something that she needed to do. "Are you sure you don't want to go with them, Wilson?"  _Please go._

"Until the end, Eleaniris. It is my duty to remain with you." She regarded him grimly, too tired to argue.

"Then stay here. There is something that I must do." Wilson dipped his helm, obeying her order. He knew what she was going to do though she had never told him, and he didn't have the heart to convince her to stay. When you love someone as he did Eleaniris, you don't keep them prisoner. His dearest friend and employer had reached her final destination, and he only wished her peace.

He picked up the collar from the floor, subspacing it.

Eleaniris smiled mirthlessly at her loyal bodyguard, who had seen her through thick and thin and been with her practically since the beginning, only for their ways to part now. "Take care, Ben."

As she climbed the massive staircase she thought of all she had gone through to reach this desperate moment. The sun was setting beyond the glass, a dark reminder of her life if she succeeded this time - which she would, with this plan, one way or another.

She had to be  _ **dead**_  dead for Knockout to be unable to fix her, which was what she wanted. This world was no place for the leader of a long-dead civilisation. She longed to join her fellow leaders, and suicide of this nature was the only way out for her. Megatron would keep her alive otherwise. He was in a meeting somewhere within his palace, and she thanked God that he had given her this chance unknowingly. Usually he was back by this time, but he was being kept late.

Not that she cared. If only he had been at work more often, she might have been able to do this sooner.

Relishing the sight of the sun setting for the last time in her life, Eleaniris stepped up onto the ledge and held her arms out, looking up at the emerging stars. Megatron had once bragged to her that he would own every one of them someday, and had even gestured to every star in the Milky Way as  _his_.

The disgusting piece of slag had them now.

She had waited  _years_  to be buried, and now was finally her chance. Dismally she recalled Benjamin Franklin saying that some "die at 25 and aren't buried until 75." She never realised how true that could be until this moment, standing upon the precipice of death.

Hopefully she could stay dead this time. It didn't matter how much Circuitsia begged her to reconsider, she wasn't going to come back here. It was over.

It was her right to pursue her happiness, as written in the Declaration.

Making sure that she was aligned with the sharp spire so very far below, the one at the centre of the palace's front, she turned around in place and once again held her arms straight out.

She felt as if she was flying when she fell back off the edge, for her spark was singing instead of screaming. It was almost over, finally her torment, her disgust, her constant misery was about to end. The stars remained in the same place though the front of the building flew past, countless shined windows and polished steel plates reflecting the last light of the sun.

Megatron quirked an optic ridge when the calm meeting was interrupted by appalled and panicked murmurings and officers jolting upwards from the table in surprise. Even the unflappable Tarn gasped in astonishment.

She remembered in a haze,

" _We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and-"_

With a sudden jerk her body stopped, a choked sound coming from her throat as she smiled in relief at the massive spire now jutting out from her chest by several feet.

" _...the pursuit of Happiness."_

Her vision splintered and shattered as it had so long ago, and at peace with her violent end the Slave Queen shuttered her optics and knew nothing more than the little, cherubic voices reassuring,

" _It's okay."_

" _Nobody here will hurt us."_

" _We're safe."_

" _Everything's going to be alright."_

She nearly cried when she heard, " _You're home now, mommy."_

* * *

He felt the world come crashing down when he walked to the window to see what his officers were gaping at, leaving only Tarn and the rest of the D.J.D. standing at the ready at the table.

His precious little Queen, his wonderful light and the Empress of his Empire lay sprawled, limp, Energon flowing mostly from her chassis but also from her mouth. Her helm and limbs bent backwards towards the Earth, slack and lifeless.

The officers around him stepped away, fearing being the punching bag of an irate Emperor. She looked so broken yet those faceplates, frozen at the moment of her demise, proved that she had not been scared when she died. They proved that murder had not taken the Queen.

Why?

Why did Eleaniris want to offline herself so  _badly_  that she had thrown herself to her death? What had he done to displease her? He was frozen in shock and horror, seeing his defenceless little mate happy at her own death.

Thundercracker was the one to remove her frame, but not after the public had spotted it from their highrises. Her Energon had run all the way down to the ground, staining the dirt with her drops of her fluid. Megatron, too astonished to notice, followed the medical staff in a numb haze.

The crowd left, only Thundercracker remaining to find the Matrix lying in a bush from where it had fallen from the hole in her chest. He went to touch it, more than relieved to find that it disintegrated into dust upon contact.  _Rest in peace, madame President._

_May no suffering find you in that place humans go._

* * *

Megatron had mainly concerned himself with figuring out her motives, with researching his options for therapists, when he should have been focusing his attention elsewhere.

Knockout had informed him that none could repair a spark casing severed from a chassis, could ever weld the countless lines that came from it. He had responded, angrily with a voice that made Sophia cringe with her children in their hiding spot, that the Allspark would revive her.

The medic had, over and over again, unsuccessfully tried to bring her back into the world of the living. Unfortunately, he had also been the one to tell Megatron why it would never work.

" _According to the ancient texts on the Allspark,"_  Knockout had cowered, showing his irate Lord the datapad as one might hold a shield, " _it only returns those who_ _ **want**_   _to be returned."_

To everyone else Megatron's faceplates stayed the same, frozen, emotionless and full of fury. Only Knockout saw how the optics changed from anger to indescribable sadness and anguish.

" _She doesn't…"_  he paused, looking down at his Queen's body, voice distant " _She doesn't want to come back to me."_

It was silent for only a few moments, before the Emperor clenched a fist and intoned coldly, " _Repair her."_

" _My liege, I can work wonders with what I am given but,"_  Knockout informed him quietly, gently " _I cannot fix a broken will to live."_

" _Then_ _ **I**_   _will."_  Megatron turned to the drones at the door, " _Prepare a tribute!"_

Knockout sighed as he left, fetching his tools to operate on the dead Queen. Megatron would never understand what had befallen the innocent President, the female that had been in the wrong position at the worst possible time. Eleaniris would  _never_  come back, no matter how many gifts he left or how many jewels he laid over her coffin. He could name entire quadrants of the Universe in her honor, and she would never return.

Grace shared his sentiments weeks later, observing under her black veil her friend and once-employer, frozen in her glass coffin. She looked so peaceful, petrified white roses set around her dead body and held in her servos, diamonds in every empty crevice. Already Megatron had started compiling his gifts, the world-destroyer distraught over his mate's suicide. He must come every night, by the amount of candles, barrels of jewels, and swaths of priceless Usconian silk. Megatron was waiting for a woman who would never return.

Not again.

She did not deserve the fate she had received, and Grace prayed that she was at peace wherever she was. If Eleaniris didn't deserve admittance to Heaven, Grace didn't know who did. She had known a lot of women who had styled for worse employers.

Yet, despite her sorrow, she dared to voice a dismal reflection to her mate and loved husband, "Do you know what happens when a glass square is strained, Soundwave?"

He was silent, helm bowed as he observed the Empress' final resting place. "Glass squares, when pushed too hard to fit a hole not made for them, will always shatter."

Grace was not sarcastic, nor harsh. She was simply stating the truth of her friend's boldness and virtue, morals and strength. She bent to kiss the glass, looking for the last time at the Empress' peaceful look.  _Goodbye my friend. May you rest in peace, Eleanor._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own James Cameron’s Avatar, George Orwell’s Animal Farm, Guardians of the Galaxy, or Star Trek.  
> This was difficult to write, but it was necessary. If you wanted an answer to the “what if” question, I hope you got it. Needless to say, there will be no further sequels to this dismal world. Let it rest in peace.  
> I suggest, if you feel really bad after this, you go back and reassure yourself that this isn’t what actually happens to our wonderful Elle. :) The real epilogue is much nicer, yes?


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